


Invictus

by Lecrit



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Angst, Falling In Love, Florist!Alec, Florists, Flowers, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, I Searched And I Found None, Language of Flowers, Lightwood Siblings Feels, M/M, Magnus has no chill, Max Is Amazing, Mention of Physical and Emotional Abuse, Misunderstandings, No Chill Detected, Oblivious Alec, Shameless Innuendos, Tattoo Artist!Magnus, Tattoos, Wanda Had Even Less Chill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 15:34:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9278225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecrit/pseuds/Lecrit
Summary: “You should get a tattoo.”Alec firmly believed in coincidences, in the serendipity that could bring the hazards of life, but even he could admit that sometimes, things seemed to happen for a reason. He was too much of a pragmatic person to truly believe in fate and destiny.So even when Jace blurted those words at him as he stumbled into his shop, they remained abstract concepts to him, no matter how it nudged at the back of his mind.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello cupcakes,
> 
> First things first.  
> Su, I don't know how you manage to inspire me to write those monsters but  
> 1) fuck you;  
> 2) don't stop.
> 
> A huge, enormous, heartfelt thank you to [Pravs](https://twitter.com/magnusbake) and [Acerina](https://twitter.com/everydayfandom), and to [Mathilde](https://twitter.com/noksindra) and [Lion](https://twitter.com/mundanelion) for the art. You people make me want to be so much better, I love you.
> 
> Happy reading,  
> Lu.
> 
> Ps: If you're live-tweeting, don't forget to use the #lecrit hashtag or to tag me so I can track it.
> 
> Italian readers can find a translated version [here](http://www.efpfanfic.net/viewstory.php?sid=3654962&i=1).

 

 

“You should get a tattoo.”

Alec firmly believed in coincidences, in the serendipity that could bring the hazards of life, but even he could admit that sometimes, things seemed to happen for a reason. He was too much of a pragmatic person to truly believe in fate and destiny.

So even when Jace blurted those words at him as he stumbled into his shop, they remained abstract concepts to him, no matter how it nudged at the back of his mind.

Alec looked up from the bouquet of bouvardias he had been arranging and lifted an eyebrow at his brother.

“Come on,” Jace said, leaping on the counter to sit in front of Alec. “They’re finally done with the renovation work in the shop next door. It’s gonna be a tattoo parlor. You’ve been thinking about getting one for ages. It’s fate, man!”

Alec rolled his eyes, rolling the sleeves of his shirt back up. “I don’t even know what I’d get done,” he mused, fingers trailing on the petals of a flower to readjust it. “I’m not going to rush to get a tattoo just because a tattoo parlor is conveniently opening next to my shop. I’m not going to let my skin get permanently inked by the first tattoo artist I run into.”

Jace stretched out on the counter to kick at Alec’s thigh, although not hard enough to hurt. “Your standards are ridiculously high. You’re never going to find someone good enough for you if you refuse to give a chance to someone.”

“Are you still talking about tattoos?” Alec deadpanned, glancing up to throw him a pointed glare through his lashes.

Jace shrugged, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know, you tell me. How was your date last night?”

“Awful.”

Jace leaped off the counter, throwing his arms up in the air dramatically. “See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about! I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

Alec took a step back to admire his handiwork, lips pursed into a thoughtful grimace. Satisfied with himself, he gave a quick nod and turned towards his brother.

“He was boring,” he said, but it was more of a groan.

Jace heaved out a deep sigh and swirled around when the entry door bell clanged to signal someone’s arrival.

“Wanda!” Jace shouted immediately, voice hitching up with enthusiasm. “Tell Alec to stop being ridiculously demanding!”

Alec had never truly dared to ask her age, but Wanda was an old woman. Her winter-white hair made her pale wrinkly skin look even paler. Her blue eyes, surely over years of experience and life struggles, were always a bit cloudy, but it didn’t manage to hide the kindness they truly bore.

She was always neatly dressed and made up to fit her high-class standards, which contrasted greatly with her attitude. Alec had been surprised at first, a bit put off if he was quite honest, but she had grown on him the way ivy grew on walls, inexorably and, in the end, tremendously.

She hobbled over to them. “What did you do now?” she asked, and her Polish accent was thick like it always was when she was ready to bicker.

“Nothing!” Alec exclaimed defensively. “I had a date last night. The guy sucked. Jace says I’m being picky.”

“I thought you youngsters said it was a good thing when a date ends up with someone sucking?” she replied, arching an eyebrow in an innocent manner that fooled no one.

“Wanda!” Alec and Jace called out in a same voice, and her toothy grin made Alec snort fondly.

“Here,” she said innocently, dropping a paper bag on the counter. “Tuna sandwiches and _szarlotka_.”

“Thank you,” Alec said, handing over the bouquet.

They had had an arrangement ever since Alec had opened his shop two years ago. She brought him sandwiches and the Polish pastries she prepared in the bakery she owned in front of his own shop, and in exchange he provided her with a fresh bouquet for her counter every day. There was clearly one of them getting the best end of that deal - him, Alec could admit it - but neither of them had ever complained. It was also the occasion for her to take a break when she needed it, and he liked her presence in his shop, familiar and ever friendly, although utterly shameless.

“Have you seen the newcomers?” she asked, pointing to the wall Alec shared with what would apparently be a tattoo parlor.

Alec shook his head, biting in his sandwich and slapping Jace’s hand when he went to steal a piece of apple pie.

Wanda ignored Jace’s affronted yelp, and her smirk widened. “The owner is very handsome. I wouldn’t mind having him for breakfast.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “I’m sure he’s way too young for you.”

“Of course he is, _kochanie_ ,” Wanda replied. “Doesn’t mean I can’t admire his assets, and there are plenty. I saw him carry a few boxes inside and I suddenly felt like I was sixteen again, having hot flashes and all.”

“You’re impossible,” Alec sighed. “And he can’t be _that_ handsome.”

“Probably not to your unreachable standards indeed,” Jace chimed in through a mouthful of apple pie and Alec threw him a glare. Both for the remark and the pie thief.

As if on cue, the entrance bell chimed again, and they all straightened up and turned to face the potential customer in a same movement.

A man walked in, holding the door open for the redhead following him. Alec gulped, his mouth dropping open. Perhaps it was how the man exuded confidence, or perhaps was it the entrancing way he moved, ethereal grace making every motion of his body look like wind dancing in the high branches of a weeping willow, fluid and uncontrollable all at once. He was wearing tight yoga pants and a ridiculously loose tank top that exposed most of his chest and his ribs, where a beautiful cherry blossom tattoo was uncovered, pink and white flowers swirling around a branch and contrasting with his bronze skin. There was another tattoo on his forearm, two lines of a beautiful handwriting curving words Alec couldn’t quite decipher. A third tattoo was poking from his collarbone, but it was hidden by the sleeve of his tank top.

His brown eyes, lined with smoky eyeshadow, were twinkling with excitement and he gave the three of them a wide grin that light up the whole room the way the summer morning lights seeping through the front window of the shop never could.

He reminded Alec of an amaryllis.

“Hi!” he said, his grin not faltering. “I’m Magnus.  I just opened my tattoo parlor next door. And this is Clary, my partner in crime.”

He was staring at Alec unabashedly, but Alec seemed to have lost the ability to speech, gaping at him and cursing at himself inwardly.

“Hello darling,” Wanda purred, shaking Magnus’ outstretched hand, then Clary’s. “I’m Wanda. I own the bakery on the other side of the street.” She turned towards Alec and Jace and snickered. “These silver-tongued gentlemen are Jonathan and Alexander,” she added mockingly.

Alec cleared his throat, reaching out to shake both their hands. “A-Alec,” he mumbled. “It’s Alec. Alec Lightwood. I own this place.” He ducked his head and blinked at the lines on Magnus’ arm. “Invictus,” he breathed out articulately, and Wanda giggled at his side, but he wisely chose to ignore her.

“Yes! It’s one of my favorite poems!” Magnus exclaimed, his brown eyes flickering with enthusiasm and something deeper, something of the people who were always a promise for adventures. “Silver-tongued, uh? That’s… interesting,” he muttered, the corner of his lips tipping up, and Alec sputtered a bunch of incoherent words, his cheeks flushing.

“Magnus,” Clary said, and the disapproving edge of her tone didn’t match the teasing spark in her green eyes.

She pushed him aside unceremoniously to grab Alec’s hand. She had a firm handshake that didn’t quite fit her tiny frame and left him a bit befuddled. She then turned to Jace, whose eyes were slightly blown, and Alec suddenly felt much better about his utter lack of eloquence, because his brother didn’t seem much better.

“It’s Jace,” he said. “No one calls me Jonathan. Wanda is just being a pain. I own the sport equipment shop down the street. I’m Alec’s brother.”

Wanda grabbed a magazine on the counter and rolled it up, smacking Jace’s head with it.

“Don’t talk about the elderly like that,” she chastised him, before turning to Magnus and Clary, blue eyes wide with staged misery. “Can you believe how they treat a weak old lady like myself?”

“The only weak thing about you is your acting skills,” Alec retorted pointedly, turning to glance at Magnus, who was still smirking like he knew something the rest of them didn’t. “Don’t let yourself be fooled by her wrinkled appearance. She’s the devil.”

It was his turn to be smacked but Wanda was too small to reach his head, so she settled for his shoulder instead.

Clary giggled delightedly. “Well, I’m sure Magnus and her will get along wonderfully, then.”

Magnus shrugged and it made the sleeve of his tank top slide slightly off his shoulder, exposing more bronze skin and the top of what seemed to be a compass tattoo below his collarbone. There was a mischievous spark lighting up his brown eyes, though, and Alec pondered that the redhead probably knew what she was talking about.

“We have to go back to the shop,” he said, pouting a little, and Alec absolutely did not think it looked adorable. And hot. At the same time. Nope. “We still have a lot to do before tomorrow’s opening.”

“Need a hand?” Jace asked, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest. Alec was glad to know his brother was back to his regular, arrogant-in-front-of-strangers self. “I have Victor covering up for me at the shop, I can help.”

“That would be great, Blondie,” Magnus said with a genuine smile that was so breathtakingly luminous that Alec had to blink in fear of going blind.

“I-I would offer but I can’t leave the shop,” Alec mumbled, gesturing vaguely to the flowers surrounding them. “I’m on my own today.”

“That’s alright, darling,” Magnus said, his grin turning somehow slier. “I’m sure I’ll have other opportunities to see those magnificent arms of yours flexing with effort.”

“Y-yeah,” Alec stammered. “Sure.”

Magnus winked at him and turned around, marching out of his shop like a man on a mission, Clary on his heels.

If Alec’s eyes wandered lower to grace themselves with the sight of Magnus’ glorious ass, no one needed to know.

No one but Jace and Wanda, because they were both staring at him like vultures on a prey.

Jace wrapped an arm around Alec’s shoulder, patting his chest in comfort. “Very smooth, brother,” he taunted. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Fuck you,” Alec groaned, pushing away from him. “Go make yourself helpful instead of pestering me. You’re using air my flowers need to blossom.”

Jace chuckled, but promptly left the shop, leaving Wanda behind him. She watched Alec closely and lifted an eyebrow, but remained silent.

“Okay,” he grumbled, squirming under her prying gaze. “Maybe I get what you meant when you said you felt like you were sixteen again. Shut up.”

The only reply he got was a knowing smile.

.

“Why are you drawing flowers?”

Magnus almost jumped out of his skin, bringing a hand over his heart as if it could steady it.

“Sheldon, quit sneaking up on me like that!”

Simon must have had some supernatural ability to move around undetected. As clumsy as he was, his steps seemed lighter than a feather, and he had developed a bad habit of lurking over Magnus’ shoulder as he worked on his designs.

Magnus hated it.

Simon ignored him, leaning on the desk next to his drawing. “So, why the flowers?”

Magnus shrugged. “Got inspired by all the flowers next door, I suppose,” he said dismissively.

Sometimes, it was hard to explain. Inspiration came and went, often unexpected, always thrilling and overpowering. Magnus worked essentially on instinct, and this morning, his guts had screamed flowers, so flowers he had drawn. It was as simple as that, but it was somehow a hard concept to explain to Simon, whose artistic skills limited themselves to the horrendous - Magnus was exaggerating, sometimes they were decent - covers he played with his band Sexy Vampire Mojo.

Simon hummed pensively, but seemed to deem his answer acceptable. He had learned long ago not to question Magnus’ quirks, especially when they were artistic ones.

“Your mom called,” he said. “Invited us to dinner tonight.”

Magnus blinked up in surprise, curving an eyebrow. “Us?”

Simon grinned, wide and self-satisfied. “You know Baboo loves me,” he said, with enough pride that Magnus had no other choice but to roll his eyes.

“Stop calling her Baboo,” he growled. “I’m the only one allowed.”

“She told me I could!” Simon protested.

“She also told you Salacious Mold was a good name for your band,” Magnus deadpanned, going back to adding colors to his drawing. “She didn’t want to upset you because she loves you for some reason beyond me. Don’t listen to everything she says.”

“Oh, would you be jealous?” Simon sing-sang, leaning in so Magnus could see him wiggling his eyebrows tauntingly.

Magnus flipped him off. What had possessed him to hire Simon as an assistant slash secretary slash permanent pain in the ass, he would never know.

He pushed his chair away from his desk and rose to his feet, wiping non existent dust off of his shirt.

“When’s my next appointment?” he asked.

“In half an hour,” Simon replied at once. At least, he was good at his job, which was equally infuriating and very helpful.

“More than enough time then,” Magnus said with a nod, and walked out of the door.

“To do what?” Simon called in his back.

“Get away from you!” Magnus retorted, and he winked at the young lady patiently waiting in the black leather couch that sat against the window in the entrance.

The sweltering heat of summer was almost suffocating as he walked outside the shop, the sun beating at Magnus’ unguarded shoulders ruthlessly. The window of Wanda’s bakery was reflecting the sun’s rays and he grabbed his sunglasses of his pockets, putting them on his nose before he marched decidedly to the florist next door.

He hadn’t talked to Alec since they had first met a week prior, but he had seen dashes of messy black hair every now and then when he came out to breathe in some fresh air after too long of a sitting with a customer.

Perhaps Magnus had been trying to get a glimpse too, but no one could really blame him. Alec was a walking sin. Tall, dark and handsome and Magnus was weak for all of those. If he had known opening his own tattoo shop would be coming with eye candy, he would have done it much earlier.

The bell chimed above his head as he walked in. The sweet, overwhelming smell of flowers filled his nostrils immediately, cutting through the duller scents of the street.

Alec’s shop looked like it had been designed straight out of a magazine. There were flowers everywhere, on the walls, on the floor, hanging from the ceiling, but somehow it didn’t look chaotic, but right. Just _right_. It looked like the perfect medium amidst a formal garden and a waste land. Even through the summer heat, the flowers seemed to blossom, beautiful petals opened wide to greet the customers and Magnus felt welcome instantly, as if the nature itself accepted him in this peculiar environment.

There was a young woman standing behind the counter, wearing a light green shirt that brought out her light brown skin and her dyed-blue hair.

“Hello,” she said when she saw him, a soft smile on her lips. “How can I help you?”

“Hello darling,” Magnus said, and he tried, in vain, to hide his disappointment. “I’m Magnus, I opened the tattoo parlor next door a week ago. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lily,” she said, shaking his outstretched hand. “I couldn’t help but have a look by the window. I love what you did with the place!”

“Why, thank you,” Magnus grinned, picking a daisy from a tiny vase on the counter to twirl it between his fingers. His grin turned somewhat mischievous as he leaned against the counter. “Tell me, is Pretty Boy around? I’m having a stressful day and I’m sure the sight of those hazel eyes would make it all better.”

Lily frowned in confusion for a second, before realization crossed her features. “Oh, you mean Alec!” she exclaimed, beaming. “Alec!” she then yelled, turning around towards a back door behind her. “Hot Stuff asking for you!”

There was a crash and a loud curse before the door opened and Magnus smirked, both at the praise and the sight of Alec stumbling out of the door, hidden by a perennial plant in a high jar. If Magnus had been staring, he would have noticed the way his biceps were contracting with the effort. He was totally staring.

“What are you talking about?” Alec grumbled and put the jar on the floor before swirling around. “M-Magnus,” he sputtered, blinking as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. “H-hi. Um. What are you doing here?”

Lily snorted, lifting an eyebrow. “I swear he usually isn’t so rude. He even is quite strict about manners.”

Alec full-on glared at her. “Isn’t it time for your lunch break?”

“It’s eleven,” Lily replied, deadpan.

“Exactly,” Alec said. “Lunch break. Now.”

Lily laughed, patting Alec’s shoulder. “You’re the boss.”

Magnus watched the scene silently, a smirk playing on his lips. There was something heartening about their casual proximity, one only true friends could display so easily.

When she was gone, Alec turned to Magnus. “So,” he paused to clear his throat, wiping his soiled hand on his dark green apron. “H-how has the first week been?”

“Pretty good,” Magnus said with a nod. “We already have a strong customer base who used to come to us where we worked before. They follow us on social media so they didn’t have too much trouble finding the new place.”

“That’s good,” Alec said with a smile. “Is it just you and the little one?”

Magnus smirked. “Her name is Clary,” he replied, faking a scolding glance that didn’t seem to faze Alec in the slightest. “There’s also Simon who takes care of social media and planning our appointments, and Maia who does piercings.”

“You’ve known them for a while?” Alec asked, and there was nothing prying about the way he did, just genuine curiosity that made Magnus smile back naturally.

“Clary’s stepfather is my mother’s best friend,” he said, plucking a petal out of the daisy in his hands. “I’ve known her forever. Simon and her met in kindergarten and were instantly best friends, so I’ve known him for just as long. I met Maia through Luke, Clary’s stepfather. He’s a social worker. Long story short, she learned the job and came to work with us as soon as she could.”

Alec hummed pensively, staring at Magnus’ fingers, which were still carefully devesting the flower of its petals.

“What about you?” Magnus asked with a smirk. “Is it just you and Lily? Who is she to you?”

“Best friend,” Alec replied at  once, perhaps a hint too eagerly, before clearing his throat again. “And yeah, just the two of us. But Jace isn’t far.”

“Speaking of Blondie,” Magnus chimed. “He was very forthcoming with compliments on your florist skills and I think I might need your expertise.”

Alec frowned. “What did he say?” he asked dubiously.

“That you had a sixth sense with flowers,” Magnus said with a soft smile. “That you could come up with the perfect bouquet as long as you knew a thing or two about the person it was for.”

Alec smiled a small smile, the hint of a flush coloring his cheeks and shrugged, dismissing the praise with a wave.

Magnus thought it was adorable. “It’s actually the reason for my visit,” he added. “I didn’t come only for those pretty hazel eyes of yours. Sorry to disappoint.”

Alec rolled his eyes, but gave Magnus a crooked, shy smile.

Magnus was so screwed.

“What do you need?”

_You. In my bed. Preferably naked. Or just you bending down because that ass looks marvelous in those jeans._

Those were all potential answers, but Magnus settled for a more acceptable one, at least in most people’s standards.

“I’m invited to dinner tonight and I want to get something for a special someone.”

“Would you mind telling me a bit about them?” Alec asked, a hesitant flicker in his eyes. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” he added quickly. “It would just make it easier for me but I don’t want to force you into -”

“Alexander,” Magnus cut in with a soft smile. “It’s okay.”

Alec blinked, licking his lips. “No one calls me Alexander.”

Magnus shrugged, throwing him a wink. “I can call you many other things if you’d rather,” he offered, curving a suggestive eyebrow, in a smooth tone that made the implication more than clear.

Alec huffed in exasperation. “Are you always so shameless?”

“Yup.”

Alec chuckled, shaking his head somehow fondly. “So… Your special someone?”

Magnus smiled. “She’s a tattoo artist too,” he said and couldn’t have kept the tenderness off his tone if he had tried to. “She was a huge support to me when I told her I wanted to open my own shop and well… she’s just incredibly encouraging and I want to thank her.”

“Sounds like you care about her a lot.”

“I do,” Magnus confirmed, his grin widening. “I love her to death. She’s my -”

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he plucked it out to read the text message Simon had just sent him.

“I have to go,” he sighed. “My next appointment is here. I hate it when people are on time.”

Alec snorted. “Go,” he said. “I’ll have your bouquet ready when you’re done.”

“Thank you, darling!” Magnus exclaimed, and he was out of the shop.

.

“You should get a tattoo. Cover them up.”

Alec startled, swirling around swiftly, and tugged his shirt back down.

“One of those days, I’m gonna change the locks so you can’t just barge in my apartment as you like,” he mumbled.

“You’re the one who gave me a spare key,” his sister said, wiggling the set in front of his eyes tauntingly. “But don’t change the subject. It still bothers you. Why don’t you cover them up?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alec sighed, pushing past her to head to the kitchen.

“The scars,” Isabelle said bluntly, because she had never been one to beat around the bush. “You could cover them up with a tattoo if they bother you that much.”

“You talked to Jace, didn’t you?,” Alec replied, his shoulders a tensed line as he rummaged in his fridge to find them something to eat for dinner.

“He may or may not have mentioned you making a fool of yourself in front of a sexy tattooed guy who looks like he invented everything sinful and probably wrote a few pages of the Kama Sutra. His words, not mine.”

Alec rolled his eyes. “Yeah, well Jace was literally gaping at the tiny redhead so he should probably keep his mouth shut.”

“Grass is always greener and all that,” Isabelle dismissed, pushing him off the way to close the fridge and grab the pizza takeaway number on the door, already composing the number on her phone. Once she had placed their order, she hung up and crossed her arms over her chest, levelling Alec with a look that made him feel like the younger sibling of them two. “Stop stalling.”

“What do you even know about tattoos?” Alec grumbled.

“Well, I’ve got one and I used to date a tattoo artist who used to talk about his job all day long so probably more than you do,” Isabelle retorted, curving a defiant eyebrow.

“You’ve got a tattoo? Since when?” Alec exclaimed bewilderedly, older brother mode full back on.

“Since I’m a grown-ass woman who can do what she pleases with her body,” she retorted and Alec rolled his eyes but kept his mouth shut. There was no denying that.

She pulled her tank top up and Alec asked himself how he had never seen it before. From her hip to the bottom of her breast, two snakes were interlacing, skin patterned with such realism that he had to wonder if they might start moving if he kept staring for long enough. Their heads were on opposite sides of the ink, like they had somehow lost their ways to each other in their sinuous paths.

“Wow,” Alec muttered after a while. “It’s beautiful.”

Isabelle grinned widely. “Right?”

Alec scoffed, reaching out to ruffle his sister’s hair. Her protest was muffled by the laughter underneath.

“So, the sexy beast next door… Is he any good?” she asked, a mischievous spark flickering in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Alec replied with a shrug. “And I don’t think he could do anything for me anyway.”

“Hey, you wouldn’t be the first person to have scars covered up by a tattoo,” Isabelle said, in a soft, soothing tone that managed to tear a smile from Alec. “They do wonderful things with women who had to go through a double mastectomy.”

She typed something on her phone quickly, before handing it over. Alec stared at the pictures for a while, the contrast between the before and the after so strikingly beautiful that he felt a little dizzy for a while. He reached out to scratch as his scarred ribs without really thinking about it, but Izzy stopped him before he could, rubbing her thumb on the back of his hand soothingly.

Alec handed her the phone back when the doorbell rang, and he hadn’t realized for how long he had scrolled down the different pictures until then.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” Izzy beamed. “Now, go pay for pizza, I’m starving!”

.

Some people didn’t bother to find a deep meaning behind their tattoos. Magnus didn’t mind it. After all, everyone was free to dispose of their body as they pleased and if someone wanted to get stars just for the sake of having a tattoo or because they liked the drawing, then so they should.

But it was the people who had a meaning for it, a whole story that went with the tattoo, that he loved the most. It could be hard. Those stories usually weren’t happy ones and Magnus had learned throughout the years that more often than not, being a tattoo artist was a lot like being a therapist.

People would bring their most devastating memories, heartbreaking moments of their lives, painful remembrances, and ask him to turn them into art, art he would later imprint on their bodies forever.

Magnus had tattooed all kind of people, from reckless teenagers who had just gotten legal and wanted to celebrate with a tattoo to veterans of war who came back home raw and wounded and seeked a refuge in his form of art.

Being a tattoo artist meant being able to leave your own problems at the door and listen to what a complete stranger had been or still was going through, and turn it into something they would later cherish, something that could, maybe, help them move on.

It was what Magnus had loved the most about it when he had first learned the art with his mother.

He recalled with perfect clarity sitting in a corner of her parlor, watching her work with and on customers - when they were okay with his presence there, which hadn’t always been the case. He had been ten the first time, and he couldn’t remember the face of the woman his mother had tattooed, but he did recall the drawing itself - a beautiful tiger that had spread on most of her thigh - and he did recall the story behind it, how she had recently lost her father, who had always called her ‘little tiger’ even when she had long past childhood and teenage years.

Magnus had heard many more sad stories, and it hadn’t stopped when he had been through his own sad stories, or when he had started practicing himself.

It had never managed to make him lose his passion, however.

Because when he built a relationship with a customer, through weeks or months of planning, different sketches and seeking perfection, and when they were satisfied in the end, he could see it in their eyes, that he had somehow brought them something worth more than words could tell. That his art had soothed something in them.

It made it all worth it.

He was relaxing in the waiting room after a particularly long work. It had been a two-hours sitting, and his back ached - another thing he had ignored until he had become a tattoo artist: it _killed_ your back. His head was leaning against the wall, eyes closed, when the front door swung open and the unmistakable sound of high heels clicking on the floor caught his attention.

His eyes fluttered open. Jace was standing in front of Simon's desk, a gorgeous woman next to him, hands on her lips.

Magnus straightened up on his seat but didn't bother standing up. “Blondie,” he called out, and they both whirled around in perfect synchronisation.

The woman looked a lot like Alec, all dark hair and sharp features, but where he had a soothing, quiet but nonetheless gorgeous hazel, her eyes were a deep brown, beautiful and fierce.

She marched to him decidedly, glancing up and down at him with nothing but determination in her gaze.

“You _are_ hot,” she announced matter-of-factly, and Magnus had a feeling he was missing something.

“Um, thanks?”

Jace rolled his eyes, pushing her aside. “Do you have a portfolio? Something where we can see your previous works?”

Magnus lifted an eyebrow, now genuinely intrigued and rose to his feet, motioning for them to follow him. They walked through the corridor, past the door behind which Clary was currently tattooing a young woman and a second one that served for Maia’s piercings. He led them to the last one and opened it without preamble, gesturing vaguely to the walls.

“Wow,” Jace breathed out, his eyes widening.

Magnus smirked, watching as they navigated through the room, scrutinizing the photographs and drawings of his work through the years littering the walls.

“Izzy,” Jace whispered after a while, breaking the heavy silence as he shook his hand to catch the woman's attention. “Look.”

She was next to him in a fluid movement that seemed far too graceful for someone wearing such high heels.

Magnus followed their gaze to see which picture had caught their attention and a small, almost tender smile graced his features.

The so-called Izzy turned to look at him, something like awe in her eyes. “What's his story?” she asked, and he knew she spoke of the man in the picture.

“He was a veteran from Iraq,” Magnus explained. “His squad walked into a trap and his arm was blasted off by a bomb. He asked me to cover up his shoulder and his stump with art as a symbol of him moving on even though he would never be the same person again.” He looked away from her eyes to stare at the photograph instead. “He had no idea what he truly wanted, but he had mentioned how he still woke up extra early in the mornings to watch the sun rise. He said “you know you have another day to live as long as you see the sun rise”. So I went with this.”

For a while, there was only silence. Jace was still focused on the photograph, but the woman's eyes were boring straight into his.

“I'm Isabelle,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips. “The better-looking Lightwood sibling.”

“I don't know, darling,” Magnus smirked. “I can think of another Lightwood sibling who can compete for that title.”

“Thank you,” Jace exclaimed proudly.

Magnus didn't have the time to correct him because Isabelle snorted loudly - but somehow still elegantly. “He meant Alec,” she told him unapologetically.

“I did,” Magnus confirmed.

Jace gasped in affront, but he was grinning the next second.

“So, would you tattoo him?”

Magnus frowned. “Shouldn't he be the one to ask me?”

Isabelle smiled a smile full of fondness that Magnus knew wasn't meant for him.

“He will, eventually,” she said. “He needs some time to do it himself. But his birthday is coming up and Jace and I wanted to get him something meaningful this year so we'd be paying for it.”

Magnus’ interest was now irrevocably piqued. “What does he want?” he asked.

“We don't know,” Jace replied absently. “He didn't tell us, but he's been thinking about it for a while.”

“Well, that doesn't give me much to work on,” Magnus commented, lifting an eyebrow.

“You can work on earning his trust first,” Isabelle said, the challenge evident in her voice.

Magnus hummed pensively, letting his eyes rake over the various photographs and drawings on the wall.

Surely, it couldn't be that difficult.

.

There was a tree in the Lightwoods’ backyard that held special meaning to Alec.

Plants had always had, but this one was unique and deeply significant. It was a sanctuary, a refuge for the lost souls, a way-out of life’s daily struggles.

There was something soothing about being surrounded by plants, something bigger than Alec, bigger than anyone. It lived and lasted beyond human years. In the vast empire of nature, Alec was just another organism, another animal. It was liberating. His problems and sorrows, his struggles and torments, they didn’t exist in this reality, and the wind sweeping through the branches and leaves never cast a disapproving glance or whispered doubts and judgments.

In the backyard, Alec was simply Alec.

He used to sit against the trunk with either a book or his own mind to keep him company and lose himself in the simple beauty of nature, somehow both complex and so utterly uncomplicated.

More than his father's own passion for the wild lands and plains, perhaps it was this exact tree that had given him his love for flowers and plants, so it was only natural that he would have become a florist.

Flowers were a simple thing, fragile and strong all at once, but they held a power beyond imagination. They conveyed emotions better than words ever could - or at least they did for Alec, who had never been praised for his eloquence.

He could easily express love, friendship or grief with a bouquet, apologies or congratulations.

Flowers spoke to him better than people did.

There was always an exception to it, and it materialized in the form of three obnoxious, meddling, annoying siblings. Well, two. The third one was none of these things.

The summer heat was scorching and even the shelter of the tree didn't cast enough shadow to save him from the beating rays of the sun that day. He heard the sound of the crutches coming his way before he actually saw Max, too lost in thoughts that he was.

“You could make it easier for me to find you, you know,” his little brother said as he threw his crutches carelessly to the side, leaning on the trunk of the tree for support.

Alec jerked to his feet to help him sit down, guilt still lurching in his stomach after all these years.

When Max was comfortably settled, he sat back down next to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Needed to think.”

“You mean you needed to torture yourself,” Max retorted.

He had always been too shrewd for his years. It hadn't changed now that he wasn't a child anymore.

Alec didn't reply, resting his head against the trunk. “I've got something for you,” he said eventually.

Max rolled his eyes. “You know it's not my birthday, right?”

“Shut up,” Alec grumbled and grabbed the paper bag he had brought with his few books, knowing Max would come and find him soon enough, handing it over.

Max didn't make much ceremony of tearing it apart, his hazel eyes - so similar to Alec's - gleaming with excitement.

His face broke into a wide grin at the sight of the dreamcatcher in his hands. “Thanks, Alec.”

Alec reached out to ruffle his hair and forced a smile to his lips, swallowing past the lump in his throat.

Max wasn’t that easy to fool. His face turned serious, brow furrowing. “You know I don't blame you, right?” he asked, but it was more of a statement. “For all this.” He gestured vaguely to his legs. “So you can stop blaming yourself.”

Alec shrugged, his throat burning with the need to scream. Not at Max, but at the rest of the world.

“I know,” he whispered.

They both knew it was a lie, but they made sure not to mention it.

Sitting together below the tree in the Lightwood’s backyard, they were at peace, and nothing else mattered.

.

Magnus’ mother had been thrilled to receive flowers, her whole face lighting up with such a wide grin that he had felt his heart fluttering in his chest with pride.

This, combined with the visit he had received from Alec’s siblings, was enough of an excuse for him to barge in the florist shop a week later when he got an hour break between two appointments.

When he walked in, Alec, who had been leaning on the counter, resting on his elbows, straightened up immediately. Magnus didn’t have the time to greet him, though.

“Seriously, _skarbie_ ,” Wanda exclaimed, her Polish accent heavier than Magnus remembered it. “You need to show less skin. I’m an old lady and I’m not sure my heart can handle how ridiculously good-looking you are.”

Her tone was playfully reprimanding, but her eyes held nothing but mischief. Magnus stopped dead in his tracks, poking his hip to the side.

“Are you talking about me or the sight of Alexander’s glorious arms in this tank top?” he inquired, the corner of his lips tipping up.

“Both are good options,” Wanda replied reasonably. “But he’s gay, so I’ve given up on trying to flirt with him. Plus, he’s boring. He never humors me. You’re my new favorite.”

Alec shook his head in despair, rubbing his forehead with his long fingers. Magnus hadn’t noticed them before, but they were very long. And elegant. It made sinful thoughts twirl in his mind.

“Don’t you have a bakery to run?” he asked, deadpan.

Wanda huffed in offense, bringing a hand over her heart. Magnus decided right there and then that he loved her. It wasn’t every day he encountered someone who shared his flair for the dramatics.

“Well, I can see I’m not welcome here,” she said in a feeble, trembling voice. “I can see when I’m not wanted. Clearly, you’re more interested in flirting with this hunk right there. Maybe you can Netflix and chill later. Or -”

“Jace needs to stop teaching you slang,” Alec cut in with a groan, rolling his eyes.

“Hey, I’m just saying, if you don’t want him…” Wanda trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I mean, who wouldn’t want a piece of this?” she asked, gesturing widely to herself.

“Someone who is young enough to be your grandchild,” Alec retorted, but it was too fond to sound truly chastising. “Go be a cougar somewhere else!”

Wanda held both her hands up in surrender, smirking devilishly. She walked past Magnus on her way out and stopped to wink at him, whispering, but loud enough for Alec to hear as well, “You know where to find me.”

Magnus bit his bottom lip on a laugh and winked back. He couldn’t hold it much longer when she pretended to fan herself with her hand as she walked out of the shop, his laughter escorting her to the exit. When he whirled back around, Alec sported a lopsided grin, and Magnus didn’t think he was aware he was smiling at all.

It was a good sight on him.

“How can I help you, Magnus?” he asked then, and his eyes were boring into his own.

Magnus walked to the counter, holding his gaze all along.

Alec was one of those people who looked at you in the eyes and didn’t let go unless they were otherwise distracted - in Alec’s case, _talking_ could actually prove to be a good distraction. It didn’t bother Magnus, because he was one of those people too, except distractions for him usually came in the form of Tall, Dark and Handsome men with strong arms but sweet eyes.

He could read a lot in someone’s eyes. They sometimes talked louder than words.

But Alec’s were unreadable, beautiful but haunted, and yet gentle all at once.

Perhaps it was, far beyond his - more than appealing - looks, what had piqued Magnus’ interest first.

“I need another bouquet,” he said, resting his elbows on the counter and leaning in Alec’s personal space.

He seemed surprised by the intrusion but he didn’t move away, his palms flat on the counter, arms spread out on either side of himself.

“For the same person?” he asked, clearing his throat.

Magnus nodded eagerly, a fond smile spreading on his lips at the memory of his mother’s joyful look. “Yeah. She loved the first one. You truly have a sixth sense.”

A blush crept up to Alec’s cheeks. “Flowers are easier to read than people,” he explained with a self-depreciative shrug.

Magnus gave him a pointed glance. “I think you’re underestimating yourself, darling.”

Alec was about to answer, but the bell chimed behind Magnus and he turned his head to see the newcomer.

Lily stopped dead in her tracks, eyes raking over both Magnus and Alec, and she lifted an eyebrow, scoffing in amusement. “Don’t mind me,” she exclaimed. “I’ll come back later. I’m gonna go eat some of Wanda’s pastries in front of Jace while he does push-ups.”

She walked out, only to poke her head back inside. “Love the tattoo, by the way,” she added, gesturing vaguely to her own back.

“Thanks!” Magnus said cheerfully. “It was my first one!”

When he turned back to face Alec, he was already busying himself, picking up a light green pot and filling it with water.

“I like this place,” he announced without preamble. “I receive compliments left and right. It’s great for my self-esteem.”

Alec chuckled and a mischievous spark lightened up his eyes when he turned to look at Magnus. “You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who needed his confidence to be boosted.”

Magnus smirked, but didn’t reply, watching as Alec picked up flowers without truly thinking about it. His motions were steady and confident, not an ounce of hesitation to slow them down. It was somewhat mesmerizing, how he focused on the task at hands with unwavering intent, humming under his tone without realizing he was even doing it.

“Why those?” Magnus asked after a while.

Alec turned his head to look at him, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow.

“The flowers,” Magnus clarified. “I can see you didn’t choose them hazardously. So, why those?”

Alec picked up the bouquet, walking back to the counter Magnus had been resting on all this time, and pointed one long finger at a bright green flower. “This is an angelica,” he said. “It symbolizes inspiration and encouragement, and you’ve told me she had been a great support to you for the opening of your shop, so it seemed fitting.”

Magnus nodded enthusiastically, motioning for him to go on.

“This is an aster,” Alec continued, pointing at a soft pink star-shaped flower, “and this is a red chrysanthemum. They are both symbols of love.”

He went on about flowers for a while, explaining to Magnus everything there was to know about the ones he had chosen for his bouquet. Alec glanced up eventually to look at Magnus, who was resting his chin in his palm and listening intently to every word coming out of his mouth, and the rest of his sentence died in his throat. There was something enthralling about the way Alec spoke about flowers in a soft, gentle tone, as if he was trying not to scare them.

“What?” he mumbled, running a hand in his hair in a self-conscious gesture that made Magnus smile.

“I like passionate people,” he said simply. “They’re quite… hypnotising to listen to.”

Alec gave him a small, crooked smile, and deposited the bouquet in front of Magnus, before reaching behind him to pluck a flower out of a pot.

“Here,” he said, handing over a beautiful red flower. “This one is for you.”

Magnus’ grin was wide enough to hurt his cheeks. “Thank you! What is it?”

“It’s an amaryllis,” Alec replied, his free hand rubbing at his right side nervously.

“What does it mean?” Magnus asked.

A light shade of pink colored Alec’s cheeks. “Um. Nothing,” he said, too quickly to appear fully sincere. “I just think it suits you.”

Magnus plucked the flower out of Alec’s hand, sliding it behind his ear. “Thank you,” he said again.

Alec smiled back and ducked his head, focusing on the bouquet again. He cleared his throat, pushing it towards Magnus. “I hope she likes it,” he muttered.

“I’m sure she will,” he exclaimed cheerfully, dropping two twenties on the counter.

Alec went to protest but Magnus hushed him with a pointed look. Alec pursed his lips together instead, and settled for a quiet, “That’s too much.”

“Is it?” Magnus asked innocently. “You can make it up to me by buying me a drink sometime.”

Alec’s eyes darkened when Magnus winked at him, and he did his best to hide his surprise. He had thought that his attraction wasn’t one-sided, but maybe he had been fooling himself.

“As friends,” he quickly added, clearing his throat.

Alec seemed to be a genuinely great person, and Magnus could settle for friendship. Ogling your friends’ asses and fancying about their arms was a totally acceptable behavior.

Alec softened immediately and smiled a small smile, nodding.

 

“Well, at least, you won’t ruin our relationship with our neighbor by having a one-night-stand with him and never calling him again,” Clary told him when he was done relating to her what had happened a couple of hours later, after finishing with his customer.

“But he’s so pretty,” Magnus whined, twirling the amaryllis between his fingers. “And I could have sworn he was interested. I mean, I can’t fathom why he wouldn’t be. And his staring clearly didn’t mean ‘let’s just be friends’. It meant ‘I want to eat you out’. I know because my ass was already trembling at the thought.”

Clary rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Not everyone is attracted to you, Magnus.”

He gasped dramatically, feigning offense. “That’s outrageous, biscuit!”

She fully laughed this time, throwing her head back. “Maybe he just doesn’t swing that way.”

“Please,” Magnus snorted. “He’s so gay my gaydar goes on overdrive just looking at him through the window. Which I don’t do, of course,” he added after reflection. “That would be weird.”

Clary walked to where he was sprawled on the couch, laying a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Let it go, Magnus,” she told him. “He wants to be friends, so be his friend.”

Magnus nodded, but made sure to be pouting as he did, because it was the adult thing to do.

.

Alec’s shop was always organized. Militarily so, according to Lily, but Lily liked to make fun of him whenever the occasion presented itself, so Alec wasn’t sure her word was truly reliable. Pots were organized by size and flowers by color, and he liked it that way.

Alec was a creature of habits. It was probably why he was so disturbed by Magnus.

Yes. It was the only reason.

Magnus was chaos personified, from the tip of his hair which changed color every two days, to the variety of his wardrobe, to his utter lack of care for manners.

He was always polite and friendly, but it came naturally to him, not as an answer to social conventions like it seemed to be for most people.

Magnus was inherently good, and his numerous tattoos, piercings and quirks didn’t manage to conceal it.

It was unnerving, and Alec didn’t like confusion. He liked things to be clear and precise. Organized through a color code.

Magnus was an explosion of colors, which was probably why he fitted so perfectly among the flowers in Alec’s shop.

The fact that he had made it a common occurrence didn’t help.

He didn’t know who Magnus’ girlfriend was, had never seen her, but he knew she was lucky to have found someone like Magnus, who so clearly loved her and bought her flowers thrice a week. As long as she didn’t mind the way Magnus seemed to flirt so easily with other people.

“Hello, darling,” Magnus chanted as he burst into his shop that day.

Alec had to resist the urge to tell him there was no point in wearing a shirt at all if it was see-through like the one he had on. He settled for inwardly cursing the summer heat instead. There was no more mystery about the tattoo on his right pectoral, just below his collarbone - it was a compass, and a beautiful one with that.

“Hey, Magnus,” Alec replied. “Another bouquet?”

“Yup,” he exclaimed, hopping on the counter to watch as Alec started picking out a few flowers.

In the last couple of weeks, it had become a routine.

Magnus would walk into Alec’s shop with all his glorious aplomb, ask for a bouquet, watch Alec prepare it and ask what every flower represented, listening intently as Alec launched himself in a thorough explanation.

At first, Alec had thought Magnus was just indulging him, listening out of kindness - or pity - more than interest, but then Magnus had started asking questions, intelligent, pertinent ones, or making references to a book he had read or a tattoo he had drawn once, and Alec had realized he hadn’t been lying when he had said he liked passionate people.

Magnus fed on the passion of others and thrived on it, although he never tried to make it his own.

It was fascinating to witness.

Alec had wondered more times than should be socially allowed if Magnus’ girlfriend, or fiancée, or wife - or whatever his “special someone” was exactly - realized exactly how special he was. Alec had known him merely for three weeks and he sure did.

Not that he would let anyone know.

The thing about having siblings is that you didn’t need to tell them for them to know.

He was in the middle of a lecture on the various meanings of poppies depending on their color when the bell chimed to greet a new customer.

Too focused on his task, Alec didn't look up until Magnus hopped down the counter and rushed to the front door to hold it open for Max, who maneuvered his wheelchair inside with the ease of years of practice.

“Max! What are you doing here?”

Max curved an eyebrow at him. “Can't I just visit my big brother?” he asked tauntingly. “Or did I interrupt something?”

Alec threw him a glare, but didn't reply. Max stopped in front of Magnus, holding a hand out.

“Hi, I'll introduce myself because he’s too socially awkward to think of doing it. I'm Max, Alec's younger brother.”

“Magnus,” he replied with a wide grin. “Tattoo artist next door.”

Max perked up, his eyes lighting up. “Have you finally decided to do it?” he inquired, turning to Alec with a hopeful look.

Alec pushed his lips together, drifting his attention back to the flowers in front of him.

“No.”

He couldn't see it, but he knew Max rolled his eyes.

“Are you any good?” Max blurted, and Alec's reprimanding groan was muffled by Magnus’ laughter.

“I am,” Magnus said simply, but with genuine confidence.

“Do yours mean something?” Max asked, pointed at the ink on Magnus’ skin that his transparent shirt couldn't conceal.

Magnus nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “They all do,” he said.

“Do they?” Alec inquired before he could stop himself, before blushing and ducking his head.

He had wanted to ask but hadn't quite dared to. He knew how personal tattoos could be.

Max had no such qualms. “What's the one on your back? It looks cool.”

“Thank you,” Magnus grinned broadly. “It's called a mandala. It's a door to spirituality where I come from.”

“Where do you come from?”

“Max,” Alec grunted, “stop pestering him.”

“It's quite alright, darling,” Magnus told him with a reassuring smile, which Alec could only reply to with a lopsided one of his own, unable to help himself.

Max snorted. “Besides, I'm sure you're curious too. You just didn't dare to ask because Magnus is too hot for you to function properly.”

Magnus smirked, a mischievous spark lighting up his clear eyes. “Am I?”

“So, the mandala?” Alec blurted, too quickly to be quite as innocent as he hoped to be.

Magnus held his gaze for a moment, and Alec stubbornly refused to look away, holding back yet another blush. It was starting to get ridiculous. He was a grown man who owned his own shop and had his life put together. He could handle one tattoo artist with a sweet smile, a sinful body and cunning eyes.

“It’s a symbolic representation of harmony and unity in Indonesia and some other Asian countries,” Magnus said eventually. “The key is to find the balance between the squares and the triangles, in the same way you try to find balance in your life. The meaning can be versatile.” He paused, and his playful eyes found Alec’s once more. “Much like I am.”

“What does it mean to you?” Max asked, and Alec only allowed himself to swallow hard when Magnus’ eyes drifted to his little brother.

“It symbolizes the bond between my mother and I,” Magnus admitted, a soft smile gracing his features. “We drew mine together,” he added, gesturing vaguely at his back.

“You’re really close?” Max inquired again.

“She’s my favorite person in the world,” Magnus said, his features relaxing in a gentle expression that could only testify of the sincerity of his words.

Because of course he had to be genuinely sweet too.

“Fuck my life,” Alec grumbled under his breath.

Magnus blinked up at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Mmh? What did you say?”

“I said ‘she sounds nice’,” Alec lied, ignoring Max’ knowing look in Magnus’ back.

“She is,” Magnus confirmed, beaming, and startled when his phone rang twice in his pocket. He plucked it out, read through the text and glanced up at Alec. “Looks like I’ve gotta go. Clary needs a second opinion on a drawing. Thanks for the flowers, darling.”

Alec smiled a sheepish smile, holding out a single calla lily. “Here,” he said. “It’s the last one, I won’t do anything with it.”

Magnus’ grin broadened as he grabbed the flower, sliding it behind his ear. “Thank you.” He swirled around to face Max, playful eyes finding his. “It was lovely to meet you, Max. If you ever want a tattoo, you know where to find me!”

“He’s seventeen!” Alec protested.

“I’m eighteen in six months,” Max added with a smirk.

Magnus turned around to face Alec with an innocent smile. “My bad. I don’t tattoo minors.” He reached out to get a business card out of the back pocket of his jeans, and Alec’s eyes absolutely didn’t take advantage of the movement to stare at his ass. Nope. Absolutely not.

Magnus held out the card to Max with a playful wink, and fled out of the shop before Alec could protest. He didn’t, though, watching him leave with a bemused shake of his head instead.

When he caught Max’ eyes again, he was greeted by a shit-eating grin and an eyebrow lifted in inquiry.

“What?” he mumbled, wiping the counter with a cloth to avoid his little brother’s knowing gaze.

“What was that?” Max asked.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Take this flower, dear neighbor who just happens to be a hot piece of ass,” Max said, in a poor impersonation of Alec’s deep voice. “By the way, that’s a calla lily and it symbolizes beauty. Take a hint and ask me out because I don’t have the guts to do it.”

Alec was too stunned to blush. “I don’t want him to ask me out,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip.

Max snorted. “Please, he’s totally your type.”

“Oh,” Alec taunted, crossing his arms over his chest. “And what’s my type?”

“Sweet, caring, intelligent men with soft eyes and a tight ass,” Max retorted at once, a daring smirk on his lips. “And just wicked enough to keep you on edge. No innuendo intended.”

Alec huffed in affront. “You’re too young to make innuendos. Go back to playing with your plushies.”

“Just ask him out, dumbass.”

“I’m not asking him out,” Alec grumbled.

“Why not? You’re scared he’s going to say no? Because the way he’s looking at you like he’s hesitating between kissing you and then asking you to marry him or asking you to marry him and then kissing you speaks otherwise.”

Alec wondered inwardly what he had done to earn such awful siblings.

“Because he has a girlfriend,” Alec retorted stubbornly.

Max startled, clearly surprised. “He does?”

Alec nodded once. “He’s been coming around to buy flowers for her at least three times a week.”

“Oh,” Max said, sounding oddly disappointed.

Alec could relate.

.

When Magnus had told his mother he wanted to stop working with her to open his own tattoo parlor, she had showed nothing but unwavering support. She hadn’t even been mad when he had taken Clary and Maia with him. Or at least, he had thought so.

She had to be mad. Clearly, he saw no other reason why she hadn’t warned him about the insane amount of paperwork having his own shop required.

Downworld Ink - Clary had wanted to call it Human Canvas, but it had sounded too much like a weird avant-garde arty thing for Magnus and Simon had unhelpfully offered to call it Tattooine, which he had immediately vetoed; Raphael’s proposition of Ink Inc had almost won Magnus’ favors if only for the unusual pun in his grumpy friend’s mouth before Catarina had come up with that name - was thriving and their appointment diary was quite full. It was going even better than Magnus had hoped for considering he had only opened over a month ago, but that also meant that he had no time during the day to do the paperwork.

When the first deadlines started to approach to pay bills and whatnot, he had no other choice but to wake up extra early to get there before the opening and get on with it.

Riding his Ducati Scrambler through the streets of a slowly awakening New York was an electrifying feeling. He had bought it on a whim when he had left his mother’s shop, but he regretted nothing. The gears were flawless, the suspension smooth, and the bike was easy to handle throughout the sometimes tricky roads of his city.

He could always hear his mother’s voice in his head when he rode his bike, cursing the “demonic engine”. She had made him sworn not to drive over the speed limits about a hundred times and Magnus had rolled his eyes every single time, but had always obliged, and it was a promise he kept thoroughly.

It was only a ten minutes drive from his apartment to his shop and Magnus usually took the subway, but he had been craving the feeling of the engine working beneath his fingers and the morning wind sweeping through his clothes and cooling his skin.

He felt free when he was driving, and it was a marvelous sensation.

He didn’t know what exactly he had been expecting when he finally arrived to their small street in Brooklyn, but it wasn’t a welcoming committee, not that he truly minded. He had figured Wanda’s bakery would be opened because it was… well, a bakery, but he hadn’t planned on seeing Alec and his brother Chase so early in the morning. Good thing his makeup was on point and his fair as flawless as can be.

He parked the bike right in front of the shop and waved at them when his arrival attracted three curious glances. They seemed confused and he realized he still had his helmet on, so he pulled it off, throwing them a smile before hopping down.

“ _Sloneczko_ , you must stop trying to kill me,” Wanda called out when he joined them in front of her shop. “I’m an old lady, I can’t handle all that sex appeal.”

“Yeah, Magnus,” Jace chimed in, in a tone that suggested more than his eyes truly told. “Give a man a break.”

He muffled a grunt, his eyes flashing with pain, but when Magnus drifted his eyes to Alec’s, all he found was an innocent smile and those impossible hazel eyes.

“Hi,” Alec breathed, and Magnus was tempted to melt right there and finish his days as a puddle of thirst on the pavement. “Nice bike.”

Magnus tucked his helmet between his legs, unzipping his bomber jacket. It was already warm despite the early hour.

“You think so?” he said with a devilish smirk. “Just ask and I’d be happy to take you for a ride. Any type of ride you can think of.”

Alec rolled his eyes, walking past him to get to the bike. Magnus threw his jacket over his arm, following him with his eyes.

“It’s the new Sixty2, right?” he asked, keeping a reasonable distance with the engine, much like he was afraid Magnus would be bothered if he got any closer.

He nodded, but didn’t say a word. There was something in Alec’s eyes, something like nostalgia and longing, but it was gone as quickly as it had come.

Alec cleared his throat, straightening up again and walked back to his brother.

“Nice bike,” he said again, looking suddenly utterly uncomfortable.

His hand shot up to his ribs on his right side and he started rubbing them but Jace reached out, gently grabbing his wrist to stop him.

Magnus frowned, and opened his mouth to say something, anything. “Time for our morning run,” Jace blurted before he could, and he dragged Alec after him.

Magnus watched them go until they turned at the corner and he turned to Wanda, curving a puzzled eyebrow. “What was that? Did I do something wrong?”

There was years of wisdom in her eyes when she spoke. “No, _sloneczko_. You didn’t.”

.

It happened on a Sunday.

Alec had always loved Sundays.

Not because there was no school - although that had been part of it, because as much as he had always loved to learn, being a closeted gay man in a private school like the Institute hadn’t been all that easy - but because of the tradition that surrounded Sundays in the Lightwood family.

On Sundays, they took their father’s pickup before lunch and they drove to the forest. It had been a different experience for all of them, but Alec knew he hadn’t been the only one to cherish it so deeply.

To Jace, it had been an opportunity to run around in the woods, making the nature his playground and the trees his training partners. He had ran, and climbed, and pushed his body to its limits, but Robert had always been there when he needed to be slowed down.

Izzy had been all about the scientific aspect of nature, of discovering biology through the living organisms surrounding them. Even as a young child, she had been carrying her little scientist kit around, observing leaves, insects and moss through the portable microscope their parents had gotten for her.

Alec was a more lyrical soul than his siblings. He loved the forest for its ethereal beauty. On Sundays, he had seeked a quiet corner and watched the day grow old and the nature around him remain unmoved by the sun sinking down beneath the tops of the trees. He had watched flowers blossom, illuminated by the sunlight seeping through leaves and branches. The woodland was never silent, but it was quieter than New York and there he could think better. There, he was at peace.

And then, the accident had happened and Sundays had lost their allure.

Not even flowers had brought him peace after that.

.

Magnus got his first tattoo when he was nineteen.

Growing up watching his mother ink the bodies of perfect strangers had only served to make him want to experience it himself. Sharing this passion with her hadn’t been enough to convince her before, though, and she had always refused to let him get one. When he turned eighteen, she had to face the fact that the idea had stuck with him and was irremediably implemented in his mind.

Then had started a long process of negotiations. It wasn’t until he mentioned the mandala to her that she started changing her mind. He had had to tell her in lengths what exactly it meant to him, how important it was, but even then, she had been reluctant.

“You’re too young,” she had repeated time and time again.

“I’m eighteen,” he had said. “I can have it done by someone else if I want to, but I want it to be you.”

“I don’t need you to have me permanently inked in your skin to know you love me, pumpkin,” she had argued.

Magnus had rolled his eyes with all the verve only teenagers were capable of. “I know _you_ don’t need it. I do.”

“Barbara,” Charles had cut in. “He’s your son. There’s no need arguing with him. He’s just as stubborn as you are. Just do it.”

Magnus had never been more grateful for his stepfather’s existence.

“Fine,” she had sighed, holding out a hand. “Show me what you’ve got.”

They had worked on the mandala together, drawing lines, exchanging opinions and advices and in the end, it had been perfect. Because it didn’t only symbolized their bond, it also was the proof of it.

Magnus had never regretted any of his tattoos, but this one he cherished particularly.

The thing no one is ever told when they get a tattoo, however, is how addictive it can become.

This was why Magnus had very early decided that his tattoos would have a meaning.

“Where is that obsession with flowers coming from?” his mother asked, peeking over his shoulder to look at his sketchbook.

Magnus scrunched his nose up, and leaned back in the couch to look at her. “I’ve been learning a lot about flowers lately.”

“What he means by that, Baboo, is that the shop next to Downworld is a florist and the owner is hot so he’s been coincidentally spending a lot of time there,” Simon chimed in. He was sitting on a stool by the kitchen bar, helping Charles cut lemons and ginger for dinner.

“Pure coincidence,” Magnus confirmed, sending Simon a disapproving glare.

“So that’s why you’ve been offering me all these flowers!” Barbara exclaimed, but there was only mirth in her tone.

“I’ve been offering you flowers because you deserve all the flowers in world,” Magnus argued, and it was only a half-lie. “And you weren’t getting enough.”

“Hey!” Charles protested, his dark eyes shooting up to his stepson. “Don’t try to put the blame on me because you have a crush, son.”

“I don’t have a crush!” Magnus squeaked.

Clary snorted from where she was snuggling with Chairman Meow on the opposite couch. “Please.”

Barbara dropped on the couch next to Magnus, a mischievous spark lighting up her brown eyes. “So, how is he? What’s his name?”

Magnus didn’t reply, pointedly ignoring his mother’s prying eyes.

“Come on!” she blurted, poking him in the ribs. “How is he like?”

“His name is Alec,” Simon mumbled through a mouthful of chips - that was why he usually wasn’t allowed in the kitchen. “He’s tall, dark and handsome. Scruff, messy hair, hazel eyes. Nice ass, too. He’s kinda dreamy, to be honest.”

“Are you sure you aren’t the one with a crush?” Magnus grumbled under his breath.

“He’s also very sweet and kind,” Clary chimed in. “And smart. Just Magnus’ type.”

“Hey, you can talk! I saw you eyeing Blondie,” Magnus asserted, because he had always been told that the best defence was attack.

“He’s hot too,” Simon commented with a shrug.

“You’re so lucky Raphael isn’t here tonight,” Charles said, pointing at him with the knife in his hand.

Simon argued that he was simply stating the obvious, and the conversation deviated from him to focus on Simon instead. It wasn’t enough to divert his mother’s attention, though.

“We’re just friends,” Magnus said reluctantly when she refused to look away. “If that.”

“Maybe you should start with that then,” she said, laying a gentle hand on his arm, just above his tattoo.

And if there was one and only one person Magnus always listened to, it was his mother.

.

It turned out being friends with Alec wasn’t really that hard.

Magnus slowed it down with the flowers, because his mother’s apartment was starting to look like a greenhouse, but he still visited Alec’s shop often enough, if only for a quick chat.

Alec had seemed cautious at first when Magnus had shown genuine interest in his life rather than flowers. He had pursed his lips, his eyebrows had been drawn downwards in wariness, but Magnus had assured him he didn’t have to tell him anything he wasn’t comfortable with and he had seemed to relax after that.

For all his unwillingness to talk about himself, Alec could go on for hours about his siblings. Magnus didn’t truly mind. When he talked about them, Alec’s whole face seemed to soften, and even his scowl when he mentioned Jace’s recklessness or Izzy’s seemingly disastrous dating history didn’t manage to hide the fondness beneath it. When he talked about Max, it was always to praise him, his intelligence, his kindness, his sense of humor - although too brazen at times, according to their mother - and his bravery. There was always an edge of nostalgia to his tone when he talked about his younger brother, a hint of regrets that Magnus didn’t comprehend but never tried to dive deeper into.

Sometimes, Lily joined them, and Magnus learned to like her too. She was sassy but caring in ways that were invisible to the eye.

When she came back from her lunch break knowing Magnus would be there, she always brought back a pastry from Wanda’s bakery and a coffee for him too with the exact amount of sugar he liked.

She never made Magnus feel unwelcome no matter how many times he burst into the shop without a warning, but always greeted him with a smile, one that turned devilish whenever he arrived when Alec was carrying around heavy pots, skin glistening slightly with sweat and hair even more disheveled than usual.

She never spent much time in the shop when Magnus was there, though, choosing to flee out of the door instead. Alec had told Magnus he suspected she had a crush on Maia, and after studying Maia after he had come back to the shop, Magnus was inclined to think Lily’s crush was very much reciprocated, if her flushed cheeks and small subconscious beam were anything to go by.

When it wasn’t his siblings or Lily, Alec talked about his parents. About his father, who had passed on to him his passion for flowers, who still took his children hiking for a week every summer despite them not being children anymore. He talked less about his mother because he clearly didn’t get along so well with her, but Magnus didn’t ask either.

He found that when Alec wanted to talk, he talked freely, and that there was no point in asking questions, because he was thorough enough to fill the blanks he wanted to fill on his own. Alec did ask, though, about Magnus’ family, about his shop, about his life.

It was on a quiet day of August when Magnus finally dared to ask the question that had been burning his lips. They had grown closer by then. Alec knew all about Magnus’ friends and his cat, which was already a lot and Magnus had heard all about Jace’s goth period.

So he only hesitated barely before he asked, “What’s with the dreamcatchers?”

Alec, who was slouched on the chair, long limbs stretched out, his feet resting on the counter, froze from where he had been signing some papers on his lap, glancing up at Magnus with a curved eyebrow.

His eyes drifted to his shop. Dreamcatchers was scattered a bit everywhere, adding a sense of peaceful harmony to the flowers. The biggest one was behind the counter, right next to the back door, big brown feathers hanging from an intricate willow hoop.

Alec chewed on his bottom lip. “It’s a thing between Max and I,” he said simply.

By then, Magnus had learned to know that Max wasn’t always Alec’s favorite topic of conversation. There were things about their relationship that Magnus ignored, because Alec purposely avoided talking about them. His eyes seemed distant in those moments, much like it did then.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said at once, gripping the edge of the wooden table he was sitting on, for lack of anything better to do with his hands.

Alec shrugged and his hand jolted up to rub his right side. “Let’s just say we both had nightmares for a while,” he muttered absently. “The legends say they filter out the bad dreams and only allow good thoughts to enter your mind. I guess we found some kind of comfort in them.”

Magnus smiled, and it was softer than he had expected it to be.

“What about those nightmares now?”

Alec’s eyes were haunted for a second, but it was too quick for Magnus to truly dwell on it. When Alec looked up to him again, it was gone, and only remained a contrite smile, small but nonetheless breathtaking.

“They never truly go away,” he said, and his eyes bore wisdom beyond his years. “But they become less… burdening with time.”

He ducked his head, but Magnus didn’t think he knew he had done it. His eyes were lost in space and for a while, it was like he had forgotten Magnus was even there. His hand was still rubbing at his ribs and Magnus was tempted to mimic the way he had once witnessed Jace stop him, but he didn’t dare to.

Instead, he hopped down the counter, effectively snapping Alec out of his daze, and tilted his head to meet his eyes.

“I hope you find that peace of mind soon,” he said with a soft smile. “Sometimes, it’s just a matter of letting go and moving on.”

Alec frowned. “Why do you sound like you know exactly what you’re talking about?”

Magnus inhaled deeply through his nose, sliding his hands in his pockets in a vain attempt at appearing nonchalant. “I could have used one of those once,” he said, pointing with his chin at the dreamcatcher on the wall. “I’m pretty sure my ex-girlfriend is the reason why they were invented.”

Alec snorted and his eyes were clear now, his lips tipping up with the beginning of a smirk.

“That bad, uh?”

“Worse,” Magnus assured him with a dismissing flourish.

The bell at the entrance chimed to signal a new arrival and Magnus whirled around just in time to see Isabelle in all her glory, navigating in Alec’s environment like she knew it by heart, her high heels clicking on the floor with dramatic gravity.

“Magnus!” she exclaimed, beaming. “Just the man I was looking for!”

“Wow, thanks Iz,” Alec grumbled, but it was too tainted with fondness to be anything but bemused.

Isabelle rolled her eyes, walking around the counter to plant a kiss on her brother’s cheek, before turning to face Magnus. “It’s Jace’s birthday and we’re going out tonight,” she said. “He hasn’t invited Clary because he’s too much of a whim and she scares him. It must be a thing that runs in the blood of the Lightwood men.”

“Izzy,” Alec growled, but she ignored him royally.

“I’m inviting your magnificent self because he’s not going to do it,” she told Magnus instead, jerking her chin towards her brother. “If you could bring Clary along, that would be fantastic.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Magnus replied, smirking. “Text me the details.”

He winked at her, waved at Alec, and made his way out of the shop with all the glory he could muster.

He just had the time to hear Alec exclaim, “Since when do you have his number?” and Isabelle’s cheeky, “Why that, dear brother? Jealous?” before the door closed behind him.

.

Because Jace was as much of a clubbing person as Alec was, they had opted for a bar, despite Isabelle’s countless attempts at dragging them to the new trending club she had been desperate to try out. They had compromised and Alec was pretty sure he had gotten the worst part of that deal.

The bar was packed and the music loud enough that it filled the room with an electric energy, feeding on the ecstatic smiles and sweating bodies. The only reason why Alec could even see the bar was his height. At least, Isabelle had arrived early, which meant they had a table for them, if a small one.

Jace didn’t seem to mind, because it meant that Clary was plastered against his side, her overly and nerdy best friend on her other side, with his grumpy, deadpan boyfriend Raphael next to him. Alec took comfort in the fact that Raphael looked just as happy to be here as he felt.

At least, they had good beer, Alec told himself, not for the first time.

“Sorry I’m late,” a smooth, velvety voice announced next to him and Alec froze, licking his lips in a reflex that he was too late to prevent.

His eyes jerked up towards Magnus, and his breath caught in his throat.

He was slightly out of breath, like he had ran to get there, but Alec had no doubt it was rather because he had had to navigate his way through the crowd. His eyes were skilfully outlined with kohl, and it only served to highlight that devilish spark they often carried. He was wearing a burgundy shirt beneath a dark blue blazer to match the few strands of hair he had dyed, but only three of the buttons were truly fastened - Alec had counted, because he was thorough if nothing else - and the smooth, bronze skin of his chest was exposed, the hint of his compass tattoo peeking out from the fabric. A myriad of necklaces were flooding down his neck and all the way to his navel, matching the rings on his fingers.

If he had met Magnus that night, if they had been two strangers coming across each other in the hazards of the crowded bar, Alec had no doubt he would have had no qualms about taking Magnus back to his apartment for the night - if he hadn’t ridiculized himself too much, that was.

Alec was so royally fucked.

“Are you, though?” Raphael said in disbelief, his dark eyes boring into Magnus’ with unwavering intent.

Magnus smirked and slid on the booth next to Alec, putting his helmet on the table before he reached out to pluck Raphael’s drink out of his hand and finish it in one long gulp. Alec chose to focus on Raphael’s annoyed but somehow defeated reaction instead of Magnus’ Adam’s apple as he did.

“Sorry, or late?” Magnus replied when he was done, his lips curled up in one of his characteristic smirks.

He looked so devilishly good that Alec chose to focus on rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and took his sweet time to do it.

Isabelle chuckled, and whether it was at Alec’s expense or Magnus and Raphael’s antics, he wasn’t sure.

“But to be quite honest,” Magnus continued with a flourish, “my last customer took longer than expected because she decided at the last minute that she wanted me to add something to the tattoo and then she insisted on buying me a coffee to thank me, and then I had to go home to shower and change because believe it or not, my darlings, one does not arrive on time if one wants to look as fabulous as I do.”

Raphael leaned in, narrowing his eyes. “Fabulous or not, you owe me a drink.”

Magnus scoffed, but rose back to his feet. “My treat,” he said, before grabbing Alec’s arm to pull him to his feet before he could form as much as a protest. “You’re coming with me, Alexander. I need you to make my way through that crowd and carry the drinks back here.”

Alec frowned. “Why me?” he asked, but they were already halfway to the bar.

“Because you’re ridiculously tall and that adorable scowl of yours will scare away whoever tries to invade my personal space while I’m ordering our drinks,” he said, and pursed his lips in reflection before winking at Alec. “I could have taken Raphael, but your company is much more pleasurable.”

“Didn’t you say he was your best friend?” Alec said dubiously.

“Oh, he is,” Magnus nodded. “Childhood best friend. We have matching tattoos and all.”

“But you spend your time talking shit about each other,” Alec said, and it was more a stated fact than an inquiry.

“Exactly.”

Alec watched as Magnus leaned over the counter to catch the bartender’s attention. The room seemed to revolve around him, the light catching on the glitter on his skin and making him shimmer. He looked like he belonged there, and Alec pondered that he probably did.

He didn’t think there was a room in the world that Magnus couldn’t have owned with his devilish charisma only.

He ordered their drinks and swirled back around to face Alec, who was quite obviously staring. He cursed inwardly, blinking out of his daze.

Magnus had a girlfriend, and Alec carried an emotional baggage too heavy for anyone to carry but himself.

He heaved out a deep breath and leaned over the counter, raising two fingers to catch the bartender’s attention.

“Shots. Vodka,” he blurted in a rush and the guy lifted an eyebrow but obliged, depositing two glasses in front of them.

Alec downed the first one in a second.

“Hey, darling, are you alright?” Magnus inquired softly, his brow furrowed in an adorably worried scowl.

Alec was really starting to master that screaming internally thing. “Yeah,” he breathed out, and gulped the second shot.

.

“Are you trying to telepathically convince him to drag you to the back alley so you can fuck him? Because you can stare as much as you want, that’s probably not going to happen.”

Magnus rolled his eyes and showed Raphael his middle finger, darting his eyes away from Alec to pout at his best friend. “He hasn’t shaved, Raphael,” he said pointedly. “Do you know how weak my knees are right now?”

“Aren’t you supposed to be friends now?”

“We are,” Magnus said with a vigorous nod that probably had more to do with the alcohol running through his veins than real enthusiasm. “That doesn’t mean he magically stopped being good-looking.”

Raphael sighed, shaking his head. “Why don’t you just ask him out on a date?”

Magnus frowned, rubbing his fingers together. “I don’t do dates.”

“And yet, you don’t want to just fuck him and forget about it,” Raphael said. “You like him. _Por el amor de Dios_ , you even listen to him talk about flowers for hours.”

“It’s interesting,” Magnus argued. “Did you know tulip bulbs can be substitutes to onions in-”

“I don’t care,” Raphael grumbled. “You can’t stay scared forever, Magnus. Not everyone is -”

“Don’t,” Magnus growled, suddenly much more sober, levelling him with an impassible glare. “Just don’t.”

Raphael sighed, raising both his hands in surrender. “I’m just saying you should give him a chance, a real one.”

“He’s not even interested,” Magnus said, grabbing their refilled glasses from the bartender. “He shuts off completely every time I flirt with him.”

“Please,” Raphael snorted, plucking his margarita from Magnus’ hands. “He looks at you like he definitely wouldn’t mind if you dragged him to the back alley to fuck him, as long as you cook him breakfast the next morning.”

“I am a great cook,” Magnus remarked just as they reached the table again, and that was the end of that.

Alec’s cheeks were a bit flushed with alcohol, but at least he was holding his ground, unlike Jace and Simon, who were busy drawing on napkins, giggling with each other. Clary, Lily and Isabelle had left to dance a while back and weren’t showing any sign of coming back.

Magnus slid on the booth next to Alec with all the grace he could muster, and observed silently as Jace and Simon continued drawing before stopping abruptly, shoving their napkins in their faces.

Magnus blinked. “What is that?” he asked, not bothering to hide his skepticism.

“We’re getting tattoos,” Simon exclaimed sloppily. “We drew them ourselves. Can you tattoo us?”

Magnus stared at the stain Simon had seemingly drawn. “I don’t tattoo drunk people. And more importantly, I don’t tattoo this kind of horror. What I do is art, Simon.”

“I know when you’re drunk because that’s the only time you call me by my real name,” Simon mused out loud, wisely choosing to retreat.

“You should do it,” Alec chimed in, and Magnus turned his head to look at him. He was sporting a playful smirk. It was a good look on him. “I’d love to see Jace trying to explain to our parents why he has -,” he paused, grabbing Jace’s napkin to study his drawing, “- a dog? a bird?”

“It’s a turtle!” Jace exclaimed. “Because they’re cool, man. They just live their lives and don’t bother anyone.”

“Please do it,” Alec whispered, turning back towards Magnus. “I would be forever indebted to you.”

Magnus chuckled. “No tattooing drunk people,” he repeated. “I do have some ethics.”

Alec pouted, his big hazel eyes shining with disappointment - and definitely drunkenness.

“Plus, I’d rather tattoo you,” Magnus told him, and it was enough to turn the disappointment into puzzlement, because he curved an eyebrow. “I mean, I’d love to poke you with my needle,” he murmured with a smirk. “Gently.”

Alec scoffed, the corner of his lips tipping up and ran a hand over his scruff. Magnus was very much tempted to do the same.

“Think about it,” Magnus said, winking. “The best thing is that your siblings would be paying for it.”

Alec frowned then, confused, and Magnus understood his mistake.

He could have brushed it off, could have found some excuse, but Jace had overheard him and in all evidence, drunk Jace wasn’t subtle.

“Magnus,” he hissed in a failed attempt at whispering. “Don’t tell him.”

“I’m literally right here,” Alec deadpanned. “I can hear you. What is Magnus talking about?”

Because of course, one drunk Lightwood sibling wasn’t enough, Isabelle, Lily and Clary chose this exact moment to come back to their table. Isabelle slid in the booth next to Magnus, pushing him further against her older brother, and reached out to steal Alec’s beer.

“Izzy,” Alec growled. “Why would you be paying for Magnus to tattoo me?”

Isabelle choked on her mouthful of beer, throwing a murderous glare at Jace. “You told him?”

“I didn’t! Magnus did!”

“I didn’t,” Magnus protested. “I slipped up and Jace made it worse. I didn’t know it was a secret!”

“We told you he would ask you later!” Jace argued.

“That doesn’t mean he didn’t already know!” Magnus retorted. “How am I supposed to know you didn’t tell him you came to see me to offer to pay for _his_ tattoo?”

“I don’t know,” Jace blurted. “Use your brain! He can’t even ask you on a -”

“Enough,” Alec snapped, and the table fell silent at once.

When his eyes found his siblings, they were impassive, a deadly calm that undoubtedly announced an upcoming storm.

“Let’s start over,” he said placidly. “You went to Magnus behind my back to ask him to tattoo me?”

“We went to Magnus to see if his work was good enough for you,” Isabelle tried.

“It was,” Jace said with an eager nod.

Alec’s jaw flexed as he clenched his teeth. “Why the fuck did you think you had any right to do that?”

“Because you were never going to do it yourself,” Jace replied, with a lack of tact that Magnus pinned on alcohol. “You’re scared and we get it, but we know you want to and -”

“You don’t know anything,” Alec snapped, with enough verve that Isabelle and Jace both startled in their seats. “You think I am desperate to move on but did it ever cross your mind that maybe I don’t want to? Or maybe I just can’t?”

“Alec,” Isabelle called out softly, in a broken voice that was as gut-wrenching as the haunted look in his hazel eyes.

He scoffed and rose to his feet, turning icy eyes to Magnus and his sister. “Get up,” he demanded, and Magnus was too stunned to argue.

He only snapped out of his daze when he realized his siblings were too dismayed to go after him. Magnus huffed, pushing through the crowd to follow him. He had to run to keep up with him and found himself cursing his long legs for the first time.

“Alexander,” he called out once they were outside and away from the suffocating horde of sweating bodies. “Alec!”

He didn’t turn around, his shoulders a tensed line and Magnus trotted to reach him, grabbing his arm to stop him. “Come on, at least let me give you a ride back.”

Alec froze, whirling around to face him. His eyes were stormy now and Magnus watched the emotions drift through his gaze, mesmerized. There was confusion, and doubt, and pain, so much pain that it was enough to knock the air out of his lungs.

It only lasted a second.

Alec snatched his arm out of his grip. “You’re no better than them,” he growled sharply. “Is this a game to you?”

Magnus blinked, his mouth dropping open. “What? Of course not!”

Alec huffed. “Did they tell you the whole story, too?” he barked. “Is that why you’ve been flirting with me even though we both know it’s not going anywhere? Do you _pity_ me?”

“Alexander -”

“Save it,” Alec snapped coldly. “I don’t want to hear it. Go play with someone else’s feelings.”

Magnus’ blood boiled and he digged his nails in his palms in an effort at taming his sudden wrath. “Who the fuck do you think you are?” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “I know you’re mad, but that’s no excuse to treat me like -”

“Just back off,” Alec grunted, and he turned on his heels, storming off.

Magnus didn’t try to catch him.

.

Alec woke up with a raging headache, his phone buzzing with text messages he chose to ignore and a burning itch on his right side.

He growled and dragged his feet to the kitchen, gulping down two Advils and a tall glass of water, and sighed at the sound of his ringbell hurling through his ears. It couldn’t be Isabelle, because she never bothered with ringing the bell, and he knew it was too early for Jace to be up.

He ran a hand over his tired features and swallowed back a yawn as he opened the front door, only to startle at the sight of Max there.

“Hey, Max. What are you doing here?” he asked, not bothering to hide his surprise.

“We need to talk,” Max announced, with far more gravity than Alec was willing to endure at nine in the morning on a Sunday.

He pushed aside for Max to come in. When Alec had bought his apartment, he had made sure it was one with spaces wide enough for Max to move around in his wheelchair without too much trouble. It turned out to be more difficult than it should be, but he had found the perfect place in the end, after months of struggles.

“You want some breakfast?” he asked, following Max to the kitchen.

“Sit down,” Max said, on a tone that left no room for argument.

Alec frowned, but obliged, not before putting the coffee machine on. Something was telling him he was going to need one. Or ten.

“So, I’m going to talk and you’re going to shut up and listen,” Max stated without blinking, throwing him a defiant look. He paused, and waited for Alec to nod before he continued. “Jace and Izzy called me last night.”

“What?” Alec blurted. “I can’t believ-”

“Shut up and listen,” Max repeated sternly.

Alec closed his mouth abruptly, his hand shooting up to rub at his right side.

Max followed the movement with his eyes, heaving. “I know you feel guilty, no matter how many times I’ve told you not to. We’ve been watching you blame yourself for years and we just want you to move on. I’m not trying to invalidate your feelings. Your guilt is very real, but the foundation of it, Alec… It’s only in your mind. It’s not your fault. None of it is your fault.”

“I chose to take the bike,” Alec cut in, because he couldn’t help himself. “If I hadn’t -”

“Then maybe it would have happened some other time,” Max said, shaking his head. “We could have slipped on a patch of ice in the winter. We could have driven into a tree in the middle of spring. We could have tried to avoid a deer in the middle of fall. But we didn’t. We didn’t. It happened then and there and there’s nothing either of us can do to change it. What we can do is put it in the past and move on, though. If it means covering up what scars we can cover up, then why not.”

Alec pushed his palms against his eyelids, chewing on his bottom lip, but kept his mouth firmly shut.

“Alec,” Max called out softly. “I know you want to. Jace and Izzy know you want to. So what is blocking you?”

Alec shook his head, the words refusing to slip through his lips despite every nudge, despite how he longed to be able to just verbalize his doubts, to admit out loud what demons had been feeding on his qualms.

“Alec,” Max poked his knee.

“Because it’s not fair to you!” he finally exclaimed, his heart leaping in his throat.

Max startled, blinking away his surprise. For a while, there was silence.

He had blurted it out, he had said the words, and now the silence laid on his shoulders like a sharp knife, freezing him in fear. It seeped in his brain, paralyzing his mind and there was a tremor in his hands, but he couldn’t move. He could barely breathe.

And then, Max snapped out of his daze, if only to smack him roughly behind the head.

“And what do you suggest?” Max barked, clearly angry now. “Should we bust your kneecaps too? Do you think that’s what I wish?”

“W-What?” Alec breathed out, blanching. “No, of course not.”

Max seemed to calm down at his brother’s bewildered expression and he sighed, levelling him with a grave look. “Do you think I’m miserable, Alec? Do I look unhappy to you?”

“N-No.”

Max smiled, a soft, small smile that spoke louder than words.

“Then I see no reason why you should keep restraining yourself from something that could help you feel better about yourself,” Max said. “Just do it. Iz and Jace said they saw some of Magnus’ previous works and that he worked on scars before.”

Alec's stomach dropped at the mention of Magnus. “I doubt he'd still agree to do it.”

Max sighed, but it was lighter now, more playful. “What did you do?” he asked, oddly chastising. Alec didn't even have the time to gather his thoughts. “You lashed out on him, didn't you?”

Alec ducked his head shamefully, and nodded, feeling every bit like a child being caught doing something naughty.

He pushed his lips together. “I’ll just go and apologize tomorrow,” he mumbled. “I’ll think of something.”

Max tilted his head to the side to catch his eyes, lifting an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I’ll call Izzy and Jace and tell them I know they meant well but they were really out of depth,” he grumbled.

“And we’re really sorry.”

Alec startled and looked up, only to find Isabelle and Jace standing in the threshold of his kitchen, sheepish looks on their faces.

He rolled his eyes. His siblings were all little shits, there was not an ounce of doubt in his mind.

“I know,” he said.

Isabelle strode to him, circling his waist with her arms to pull him into a hug. Alec smiled despite himself, burying his nose in her hair. It smelled like jasmine and shampoo. Jace came to his other side and Alec wrapped his arms around them both, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the last days of summer.

“I love you,” Alec murmured. “Even though you’re intrusive and meddling little shits.”

“We love you, too,” Isabelle replied, squeezing his waist a hint harder.

“Even though you’re stubborn as hell, man,” Jace said.

“And even though you still think you have to protect us at all times and you are so helplessly selfless,” Max added.

Alec scoffed, but didn’t reply. Max had a point. Several points, actually.

Perhaps it was time to move on.

.

Magnus arrived early on Monday and parked his bike in front of his shop, rummaging in his pockets to find his keys.

His morning went by like it always did. He opened the shop and turned on the lights. He then walked to the break room to put the coffee machine on. By the time the jar was filled with the brown liquid, cramming the room with its rich smell, Simon, Clary and Maia had arrived. He drank his coffee and conversed with them like he always did, laughing at Clary’s tale of how hard her taxi driver had stared at her on her drive back to her place on Saturday night because Simon kept texting her ridiculous pictures of various drawings he wanted her to tattoo him since Magnus was “being fucking reasonable for once in his life”.

When coffee had been drunk and laughter had been shared, Simon handed out their schedule for the day and Magnus’ first appointment arrived soon after. He only had two customers that morning, but there were both requiring long and meticulous work, so he barely had the time to catch a break.

Simon got him a sandwich from Wanda’s bakery for lunch - accompanied with a note that said “you can pay me back later, kochanie, or you can just stop wearing a shirt, I can accept that as payment as well”. Magnus chuckled through a mouthful and walked to the front desk, where Simon was extremely busy playing solitaire on the computer.

“Don’t you have work to do?” he asked, but it held no real guile. “I don’t pay you to play cards.”

“Nope,” Simon replied, the word popping out of his mouth. “You pay me to take your messages, and I’ve got one.”

Intrigued, Magnus leaned on the counter and snapped his fingers in front of Simon’s eyes to divert his attention from the screen.

“Alec came by,” Simon said, and Magnus’ eyes darkened instantly.

“Good for him.”

“He said to tell you he was sorry and that he really wanted to talk to you,” Simon added despite Magnus’ disinterested expression.

“I don’t care,” Magnus replied coldly.

“He also left this for you,” Simon said, producing a yellow rose out of nowhere.

“They’re the ideal flowers for an apology,” Alec had told him once. “They stand for innocence. It’s like saying ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you, I didn’t mean to’, but they also mean you value the person’s friendship, so it can work for both.”

Magnus clenched his teeth and plucked the flower out of Simon’s hand. “What an ass,” he grumbled under his breath, but walked away with the flower between his fingers anyway. “I’ll be in the break room until my next customer shows up.”

Once in the break room, his routine came back easily. He shrugged his shirt off and threw it carelessly on one of the brown-leathered sofas in the room, pushing the coffee table against the wall with his foot. Then, he laid the mat he kept in one of the cupboards on the ground, before sitting down. He closed his eyes and took a series of gentle rounds of breath, letting his whole body relax gradually.

It was something else his mother had taught him when he had learned the art with her. Being a tattoo artist meant he could spent hours bending over and his back suffered from it. To cope with the inevitable ache, Barbara practiced yoga everyday, and just like her passion for inking, she had passed it on to Magnus.

He extended his legs in front of him and bended to touch his nose to his knees. Then, he let his body do the rest, following a routine that he now knew by heart, a succession of poses he had long mastered that always managed to get him rid of the tension in his shoulders and in his lower back.

He had been holding the tree pose for barely ten seconds when a soft knock broke through the quiet peace of the room. He knew it couldn’t be Maia because she was still with a customer, or Clary because she had a lunch date with Jace, and it was highly uncharacteristic of Simon to knock, which didn’t leave him many options.

He inhaled deeply through the nose, but didn’t reply.

The door opened slowly after a few seconds, and Magnus switched to the forward bending pose to look at Alec between his legs.

The florist blinked, his brow furrowing slightly. He muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like “damn, I’m so gay”, before clearing his throat.

“Um. Hi. Magnus.”

Magnus ignored him, letting out a deep breath before he put his hands to the ground, bringing his hips down and his shoulders up in a swift motion.

“I-I came to apologize,” Alec muttered, shutting the door behind him. “About Saturday.”

“Then by all means, don’t let me stop you,” Magnus said, but didn’t dignify him with a glance.

He couldn’t see, but he perceived with perfect clarity Alec shuffling on his feet in his back, and he swallowed back his urge to bring him comfort. He was still mad. Yes. Very mad. All of the yellow roses and half-hearted apologies in the world weren’t going to change that.

“Can we do this while you’re not bending down in front of me?” Alec blurted urgently, sounding just a hint annoyed. “It’s… distracting.”

Magnus heaved out a deep sigh, just loud enough to be exaggerated, and leaped back to his feet, swirling around to face him with a frown, arms crossed over his chest.

“Maybe put on a shirt too?” Alec tried.

Magnus curved an eyebrow, but didn’t move an inch.

“Fine,” Alec grumbled, licking his lips. He paused, inhaling deeply, and his hazel eyes drifted from Magnus’ exposed shoulders to bore straight into his own. “I’m sorry.”

Again, Magnus remained immobile, sending him the most unimpressed glare he could muster.

“I just… It’s something I still have trouble dealing with and I was mad that Izzy and Jace went behind my back to talk to you about something that was so personal to me and -”

“And you just assumed that I’m such a good person that I spent time with you because I pitied you to then laughed about it behind your back, is that it?” Magnus said sharply, his jaw flexing with irritation.

“Yes. No!” Alec blurted, then released an annoyed sigh that only seemed directed at himself. “I don’t know. Pity is what I usually get, and I hate it. But-”

Magnus huffed in exasperation and rolled his eyes, striding past Alec to get to the couch and grab his discarded shirt. Alec grabbed his arm before he could and when Magnus whirled around, ready to shove him off, he couldn’t do so, frozen in place by the sheer sincerity in Alec’s hazel eyes, wide and full of something Magnus couldn’t quite decipher.

“Magnus,” he murmured, chewing on his bottom lip. “I’m really sorry. It’s a sensitive topic to me and I reacted harshly but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

Magnus watched him closely, studying his eyes for any sign of guile, but as always in Alec’s eyes, there was none.

He let the silence drag for a while, staring up at him mutely, but eventually, he nodded. Alec swallowed hard, releasing a shaky breath. He let go of his arm and took a step back, his gaze drifting to the side and settling on the coffee table Magnus had pushed against the wall.

His brow furrowed slightly when his eyes found Magnus’ sketchbook and he bended to pick it up, looking back at Magnus. “Is this yours?”

Magnus nodded. Alec lifted an eyebrow, a silent question, and Magnus gestured for him to go on. Alec didn’t hesitate any further, dropping on the couch and swiping through the pages with a steady eagerness that was quite startling.

Magnus sat down next to him, watching his eyes dart through the paper in awe, apprehension suddenly whirling in his mind. He had never doubted of the quality of his work before, but there was something about Alec’s silence that left him with the urge to squirm on his seat, and it was unnerving.

“That’s…” Alec started, and seemed to seek his words for a while. “A lot of flowers.”

Of everything, it was certainly the last thing Magnus had expected but then again, he was slowly learning that nothing Alec did was ever predictable.

“I was inspired,” he said simply.

“Can I see more?” Alec asked, and his eyes were equally innocent and steady.

Magnus stood on shaky legs and grabbed his shirt on the back of the couch, motioning for Alec to follow him. He led them out of the break room and back to his workshop, his own universe, his personal dreamland.

Much like his siblings had before him, Alec fell silent again, moving around the room to study the diverse drawings and pictures scattering the walls. When he stopped, Magnus was barely surprised to see it was in front of the picture of the veteran that had caught his siblings’ attention too.

He raised a tentative hand, his long fingers lingering on the picture, a look that held nothing but longing in his hands. Magnus watched him do so with his lips firmly pressed together, unwilling and unable to break his quietude.

Finally, and all without uttering a word, Alec turned to face him and, sucking in a wavery breath, moved his hands to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them one by one with shaky fingers.

“What are you doing?” Magnus asked in a whisper, because it felt like speaking any louder would break something that had only just started to grow between them.

“I need to show you something,” Alec replied breathily.

“Well, if you need to take off your shirt for that, I can only approve,” Magnus said, his lips tipping up at the corner.

Alec snorted and shook his head, but it was all done with a latent fondness that made something warmth squirm in Magnus’ stomach.

He paused when all the buttons were open and doubt flashed through his eyes for a moment, but Magnus barely saw it, his gaze focused on the exposed skin. Alec shrugged off his shirt, and Magnus gulped, biting his cheek to prevent himself from licking his lips.

Alec turned to show him his right side then, the one Magnus had caught him scratching nervously a few times, and his previous thoughts vanished into thin air, his brows drawing together.

Across his ribs, all the way from his hip to right below his armpit, laid a long, broad scar, faded to a shiny white by the years.

Magnus took a step closer, and lifted a hand but stopped before he could as much as brush him.

“Can I touch you?” he asked, and waited for Alec’s dull nod before he moved forward again.

He ran his fingers over the ridges and jagged edges of the scar, feeling how smooth it felt beneath his touch, examining how deep it was, how far it ran on his skin.

“Can you do something?” Alec whispered, and Magnus felt his skin vibrate as he did. “To… To cover them up?”

Magnus snapped out of his daze and straightened up to face him. “Do you want all of it covered up?” he asked, fully aware of his skin tickling, beset by the intimacy they had managed to find in his own universe.

“Yes,” Alec said. It was like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders; they slouched in relief, and Magnus had to resist the urge to reach out again, but to tug him into his arms this time.

“Do you have an idea of what you want?” Magnus asked. “Jace and Izzy didn’t say.”

“Not exactly,” Alec mumbled, and shuffled in his pocket to grab his phone. He frowned as he scrolled down his pictures. He let out a small, triumphant noise when he found what he had been looking for, beckoning Magnus closer with a flicker of his fingers.

The tree on the picture was nothing short of majestuous, glowing brightly in the middle of a vast garden, branches lifted to the sky as if its very presence was enough to chase away the darkness and command the daylight’s path. It looked like it could embrace you in its branches and protect you from the wickedness of the world that had managed to escape its kingdom.

It was beautiful and strong, sublime and noble in its simplicity.

It fit Alec perfectly.

“I know it doesn’t mean much to you,” Alec muttered. “It must be vague, but that tree means a lot to me. I’m not sure how exactly you could turn it into a tattoo but -”

“Alexander,” Magnus cut in softly. “A lot of people have a misconception about tattoos. I don’t expect my customer to come into my shop with a clear idea of what they want and a drawing ready for me to copy. Sure, some of them do. But this isn’t something where you can have full control. You don’t. It’s a collaboration between two persons, sometimes more. It’s your body, but it’s my art.”

Alec seemed to ponder on Magnus’ words for a bit, but eventually he nodded. “So how does it work?”

“We work on it together,” Magnus told him. “Do you trust me?”

Alec’s lips pulled into the ghost of a smile, and his eyes shone brightly when he spoke, “I must be going mad, but I think I do.”

Magnus smiled warmly, and leaned a comforting hand on his shoulder. “May I ask why this particular tree?” he inquired. “It might help me get a better idea if I can understand better what it means to you.”

Alec tensed at once.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Magnus immediately rushed out. “I can work without knowing.”

“No,” Alec said, shaking his head. “I can tell you. But I’d rather do that while we both have our shirts on.”

Magnus snorted and bended to grab both of their shirts, just when the door opened with a bang. He startled and they both turned to face Simon, who was looking at them with blown eyes.

A sly grin spread on his lips. “Sorry,” he said, on a tone that was utterly unapologetic. “I didn’t know I was interrupting something.”

“You didn’t,” Alec blurted, and if his scruff was enough to conceal his blush, his shirtless state didn’t manage to hide how it spread all the way to his neck.

“Sure,” Simon said. “I’m sure you have a decent explanation why you’re both coincidentally shirtless.”

“We have,” Magnus growled. “What do you want, Sigourney?”

“Your next customer is here,” Simon said, smirking. Raphael truly had had a poor influence on the sweet boy he had once been. “I hope you didn’t do some weird kinky shit in here. This room is supposed to be completely sanitary.”

“Oh my God,” Magnus exclaimed, throwing a pillow to his face. “Go away, Steven!”

Simon retreated to the safety of the corridor, his laughter echoing after him.

Magnus put his shirt back on and when he turned around, Alec was - disappointedly - covered again.

“Rain check?” he muttered, with that crooked smile of his that would certainly be Magnus’ undoing. “You can come by the shop when you’re done here and I’ll tell you then? If you’re free, I mean.”

Magnus couldn’t help but smiled back. “I’d love that.”

If it wasn’t the smile, the way Alec’s eyes shone a little bit brighter was definitely enough to make Magnus’ heart race in his chest.

.

“Okay, what’s up with you?”

Alec startled, looking up from the money he had been busy counting to glance at Lily, who was leaning in the counter next to him, arms crossed over her chest, only her head turned to stare at him.

“Nothing,” he said with a frown. “Why?”

“You’ve been humming under your breath all afternoon, Alec,” Lily deadpanned. “I’ve known you for many years and I’ve never seen you humming before.”

“I wasn’t humming!” Alec protested.

Lily didn’t reply but sent him a pointed glare that was an answer on its own.

“Was I?” he asked, voice pitched low.

Lily snorted and grinned. “So, what made you suddenly so giddy? Did Wanda give you an extra pastry? Did you order a new book about flowers? Oh! I know! Did you watch funny cats videos?”

She had barely finished her sentence that the bell chimed to signal a new customer.

“We’re closing!” Lily exclaimed, but froze when she swirled around to find Magnus standing there. “Oh, hey Magnus!”

“Hey, Lily,” he said with a wide smile, before turning to glance at Alec. “Hey, handsome.”

“Hey,” Alec replied. “Let me just close the shop and we can go have a drink?”

“I thought we could go for a walk,” Magnus offered instead. “It’s still warm and the Hudson river isn’t far.”

Alec nodded, purposely ignoring his best friend’s gasp at his side, and slid the bills he had been counting in an envelope.

“You go ahead,” Lily said, pushing him out of the way to grab the notebook that contained customers’ orders. “I can close on my own today.”

“You sure?” Alec asked with a frown.

“I’ve been working here since the opening, Alec,” she said, deadly serious. “I can close on my own. Off you go.”

There was clearly no point in arguing, so Alec unpinned his badge and threw it in the box below the counter before grabbing his wallet and keys. Lily grabbed his arm before he could walk around the counter.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a whisper, casting a glance to the side at Magnus, who was too busy studying one of the dreamcatchers hanging from the ceiling to pay them much attention.

Alec frowned, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I thought he had a girlfriend?” she hissed, chastising but caring all at once.

“He does,” he said. “It’s not like that.”

Lily rolled his eyes. “Of course it is. You like him. You were humming under your breath all afternoon because of him!”

“I-” Alec started but didn’t finish, his eyes darting to the side. Magnus must have understood they were having a private conversation, because Alec could now see him waiting for him outside the shop, chatting and laughing with Wanda. He inhaled deeply. “I asked him to tattoo me,” he confessed in a low voice.

Lily gasped, her eyes widening. “You did?” she asked, and relaxed when Alec nodded. “Good for you, Alec,” she said with a soft smile, reaching out to push a few loose strands of hair off his forehead. “But be careful, okay? Don’t set yourself up for heartbreak. I know you like him more than you’re willing to admit.”

Alec pushed his lips together, but nodded again.

“Okay,” Lily muttered. “Now go before he ditches his girlfriend for Wanda instead of you. You know she’s capable of anything.”

Alec snorted and planted a kiss on her forehead before walking away and out of the shop.

“I mean, all I’m saying is don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” Wanda was chanting, on that eternally mischievous tone of hers.

“Wanda,” Alec growled when he joined them. “Stop trying to get Magnus to sleep with you.”

“Well, you’re not doing anything, so I see no reason why,” she retorted at once with a taunting smirk. She reached out to pinch his blushing cheeks. “Also, I was talking about Polish beer, _malenstwo_.”

Alec lifted an eyebrow, casting a dubious glance at Magnus, who gave him a soft smile. “She was.”

“Whatever,” Alec mumbled, but it was layered with mirth. “Ready to go?”

“For you, always,” Magnus replied with a wink, and Alec rolled his eyes. “We can take my bike if you want and then have a walk by the Hudson river?”

Alec pushed his lips together. “I’m not… I don’t really…” He paused, heaving. “I’d rather walk.”

Magnus didn’t seem unfazed. Instead, he turned to wink at Wanda, who pretended to faint. “See you later.”

“See you later, you two,” she said, a shrewd but tender look in her eyes. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That doesn’t rule out much,” Alec deadpanned.

“Exactly,” she said, and her smirk was just pure mischief.

Alec scoffed, a traitorous smile tugging at his lips, and motioned for Magnus to follow him down the street.

For a while, they walked in silence side by side, their arms brushing together every now and then. Alec used that time to think, to string in his head what he would say and how he would say it, but mostly to gather the courage to do it out loud. Pondering the words in his mind seemed easy. It was his story after all, and he knew it in every painful detail, every gut-wrenching memory.

Magnus didn't try to talk, and Alec figured he had understood the gravity of the situation, the utmost importance of this moment.

It was one of those moments when you knew the intimacy of a confession would change a relationship completely. Alec wasn't sure whether it would be for better or worse, but somehow, inexplicably, he trusted Magnus.

They grabbed two coffees to go and found a bench on the road along the riverbank. The summer was coming to an end and the days had started to get shorter, but they were still bathed by the late afternoon lights and Alec shut his eyes, enjoying the last few rays of sunshine on his skin.

“I take my passion for flowers from my dad,” he said eventually. He heard Magnus shuffle next to him, and he knew he had turned to watch him. When he opened his eyes, he set them on the calm waters, finding strength in the life that proliferated there, struggling but always abundant. “He’s a botanist. When we were younger, he used to take us to the Sterling Forest State Park every Sunday to teach us about plants. I was the only one that truly paid any attention. Jace used it as an excuse to run around wreaking havoc and Izzy just grabbed any insect that came her way to study it. She didn’t become a zoologist out of nowhere.”

He paused, licking his lips. “Max… Max was always with me. He used to follow me around everywhere. We’ve always been close and for some reason, he liked spending time with me. I wasn’t much more socially accomplished than I am now.”

Magnus smiled, his eyes twinkling with fondness. “You’re his big brother,” he muttered with a shrug. “He looks up to you.”

Alec hummed quietly. “I guess. For my eighteenth birthday, my parents bought me a bike. That was another one of my passions, this one I shared with my mother.”

Alec stopped to study Magnus, and he could almost see the wheels of his brain turning on, his eyes widening slightly. “I was ridiculously excited so on the following Sunday, I insisted on taking my bike to drive to the forest instead of making the road with them. Max...”

He took a deep breath and his hand reached up to his side to scratch his scarred ribs, but Magnus stopped him, much like his siblings usually did, taking Alec’s hand in his own gently.

“Max wanted to come with me,” he breathed out. “My mother wasn’t okay with it, but my dad just laughed at her, telling her to let us be young and bold. So I took Max with me.”

His voice broke on the word and he cleared his throat to conceal it, but Magnus had already picked up on it. He squeezed his hand lightly. “You don’t have to tell me, Alexander,” he murmured, but his tone said he had already understood.

“We were halfway there,” Alec said nonetheless. “Everything had been going just fine. Max was laughing. I was laughing. I knew those roads by heart, I had taken them over a hundred times before. At nine in the morning on a Sunday, you don’t expect a drunk driver.”

Alec’s smile was bitter. Dry. “I saw him too late. He was driving on the wrong side of the road and I had been distracted for a second to readjust Max’ arms around my waist. I swear it wasn’t more than a second. But when I looked back up, he was right in front of me and it was too late. I tried to turn to avoid it, but he hit us anyway.”

“I remember trying to grab Max to protect him but the shock was too violent,” he muttered. “I burnt my right side on the pavement. Broke my arm and four of my ribs but Max…”

He sucked in a shaky breath and Magnus turned his body to face him completely, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of Alec’s hand. “Take your time, darling,” he said.

“Max was so small,” Alec croaked lowly. “And so light… He was propelled forward and he landed in the ditch alongside the road. His kneecaps burst with the shock.”

Magnus swallowed hard, but didn’t talk. He watched Alec silently, waiting for any sign that he wasn’t done. Alec shook his head. There wasn’t much else he could say.

Yet, as he glanced up to look into Magnus’ eyes, he found the words escaping his mouth before he could do anything to stop them.

“All I remember is waking up in an hospital bed with Jace by my side and asking for Max, but no one could tell me where he was and… I don’t know how long it was but when he came out of surgery and the doctors told us he couldn’t walk anymore, I felt like time had slowed down. It was like the accident had happened so fast that after that, time had slowed down to regain its balance. I don’t know how to explain it otherwise.”

“I was so angry,” he murmured. “The other driver died in the accident and I couldn’t take it out on him, so I guess… I guess I blamed myself instead.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Magnus said at once, on a soft tone that made something painful tug in Alec’s chest.

“I decided to take the bike and I decided to take Max with me,” Alec argued. “I should have let him go with my parents and-”

“And maybe that drunk driver would have hit your parents’ car instead,” Magnus cut in, not unkindly. “Or maybe it would have happened another time. But it was what happened and you can’t change it, no matter how much you blame yourself. You did nothing wrong, Alexander. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Alec sighed. “I know. Rationally, I know.”

Magnus smiled a small, reassuring smile. “And here I was, wrongly thinking you were a rational, pragmatic guy.”

Alec chuckled, and found himself breathing a little easier.

Magnus let him a few seconds to gather his thoughts and tilted his head to the side. “What about the tree?” he asked. “And the dreamcatchers?”

Alec blinked. He had almost forgotten why they were here in the first place.

“After the accident, I couldn’t look at Max in the eyes,” he confided. “Every time I looked at him, relearning how to do simple things without being able to use his legs, I felt more and more guilty. So I stole a book about flowers from my father’s office and hid in the garden. The tree I showed you was my favorite spot. I guess… I guess I felt safe there. Like nothing could get to me. That was until Max came to find me. It had already been months after the accident, and he was only beginning to use his crutches, only for very short distances. But he came all the way to the back of the garden that day and sat down next to me.”

“What did he say?” Magnus asked, propping his chin on his folded knees.

“Nothing,” Alec said with a mirthful but nostalgic smile. At Magnus’ puzzled expression, he chuckled. “He just sat there and waited. And he did that every day for a week until I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“Stubbornness seems to be a family trait,” Magnus commented with a smile.

Alec scoffed, but nodded in approval. “So after I was done yelling because I was angry and I needed to let it all out, we talked. And then, it became a common occurrence. He’d meet me under the tree and we’d talk. About everything, although we mostly avoided to talk about the accident or his injury, but we somehow grew closer.”

“We talked about our nightmares a lot,” Alec murmured. “It was an aftermath of the accident. He didn’t sleep much because when it wasn’t the nightmares, it was the pain that woke him up in the middle of the night, and I couldn’t sleep just knowing he was awake. So I used to join him in his room in the middle of the night and keep him company until he fell back asleep. My mother had an old, dusty dreamcatcher in the garage and when I found out about it, I took it and hung it above his bed.”

He huffed out a quiet chuckle. “It was silly, really. Neither of us is superstitious, but it seemed to work, because the nightmares subdued after a while. It became a thing between us. I buy him a dreamcatcher every now and then, and he buys one for me. I think it’s our way of telling each other we can count on the other to help us chase the nightmares away.”

There was silence for a while. It wasn’t uncomfortable despite its heaviness, but peaceful, steady like the Hudson river, gentle like the brush of Magnus’ thumb on the back of his hand.

“So, yeah,” Alec mumbled eventually, clearing his throat. “That’s the whole story.”

He was ready to apologize for pouring his heart out like he had, for burdening Magnus with an affliction that wasn’t his, but Magnus simply squeezed his hand again and smiled.

“Thank you for telling me.”

Alec couldn’t help but smile back. “Thank you for listening.”

Another silence, and Alec urged himself not to focus on how soothing such a simple touch felt, how the weight in his chest seemed a hint lighter every time he caught one of Magnus’ smiles.

He darted his eyes back to the water. “I’ve wanted to do something for the scars for a while, but it seemed silly, you know? I’m not sure how a tattoo can fix any of that.”

“It won’t,” Magnus said softly. “But it can help. I’ve tattooed a lot of people, Alec. Not all of them for meaningful, spiritual reasons, but it was for many of them. Sometimes, it’s a matter of moving on, or to mark an important event in their life, or just to make a statement about who they are. There’s something inherently therapeutic to it, simply because you’re sitting with someone and telling them about what it means to you and for a few hours, you’ve got their complete attention and care. To mark your skin with something that will be a part of you because _you_ have decided it. It’s not silly to me if it makes you feel better about yourself or if it helps in any way to overcome the struggles life can throw our way.”

Alec hummed pensively, nodding gingerly. “What about yours?” he asked, angling his head to look back at Magnus. “Do they all mean something to you?”

“Yes.”

Alec turned to face him properly. “Tell me,” he murmured, but it was more a request than a demand.

“Which one?” Magnus asked with a small smirk. “I’ve already told you about the mandala.”

“All of them,” Alec said.

Magnus scoffed in fond amusement at his bluntness, but didn’t seem surprised. He pulled a face, seemingly deep in thoughts. “I guess that’s only fair,” Magnus muttered, but it seemed to be meant mostly for himself.

He moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of Alec and let go of his hand. Alec refrained the urge to protest at the loss, setting it on his thigh instead.

Magnus ducked his head to stare at his own chest, propping his chin down, and pushed the lapel of his shirt aside to show the compass tattoo just below his collarbone. It wasn’t a huge one, just small enough to show the details of the drawing. The pattern was intricate, though, in a way that was very similar to the mandala between his shoulder blades and yet strikingly different, telling a story on its own.

Every single one of Magnus’ tattoos seemed to tell a different story, like different pieces of a puzzle which, put altogether, helped to solve the mystery that he was and remained.

“This is the one I got with Raphael,” he said. “He’s got the anchor to match it.”

Alec arched an eyebrow. “That sounds… romantic.”

“Ew, no,” Magnus exclaimed with a grimace, scrunching his nose up in disgust. “Raphael is like a brother to me. He was there for me at a time of my life when everything went wrong and he made sure to always keep me on the right path.”

“Hence the compass,” Alec said.

“Hence the compass,” Magnus confirmed with a nod. “The cherry blossom,” he mumbled, this time lifting his shirt to expose his ribs, “is a symbol of -”

“I know what it stands for, Magnus,” Alec cut in with a smirk.

“Oh yeah. You and your flowers,” he taunted, but it was more fond than mocking. “Well, it’s a reminder to myself that life is short so we might as well appreciate it for the good things it brings.”

Alec nodded, a bit sternly, and motioned for him to go on. Magnus frowned but did, rolling up his right sleeve to expose the lines on the inside of his forearm.

“Invictus,” Alec whispered.

“Yeah,” Magnus said. “Did you know Henley wrote it while he was in the hospital?” It was clearly rhetorical so Alec didn’t reply. “His foot had just been amputated and he was quite sure he was going to die. So he wrote Invictus, to translate his courage in the face of death. It’s about keeping the head up when life places before you nothing but indignities and obstacles. And you know what’s so great about this poem? It’s that it can be interpreted in so many ways because it all depends on the person who is reading it. To me, it is about getting through every day and being solely responsible for my destiny, but it can be something entirely different to you, or to anyone here walking around.”

When he paused, Alec didn’t even try to conceal the small, bemused smile pulling at the corner of his lips. He just stared at Magnus with squinted eyes, one eyebrow arched in inquiry.

“What?” Magnus asked, staring right back through his eyelashes.

“I can’t figure out if you’re stalling or if you’re purposely avoiding to talk to me.”

“I am talking to you,” Magnus protested but his eyes drifted to the side, and Alec knew he had hit a chord.

“I asked you to tell me what they meant to you,” Alec said softly. “You’re just giving me a generic answer I could have found just as well on Google.”

Magnus chewed on his bottom lip and when he looked back at Alec, there was something new in his eyes, a vulnerability Alec hadn’t imagined he would ever see in there. His hand shot up on its own accord, grabbing Magnus’ in his.

He gave it a light squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me,” he said with a smile he hoped reassuring. “But don’t try to bullshit me either.”

Magnus scoffed and his eyes held a depth Alec hadn’t imagined possible when they bore into his, steady but delicate, uncompromising but exposed.

“People usually don’t realize I’m doing this,” Magnus said, voice pitched low. “You’re something else, Alexander.”

Alec smirked, feeling quite ridiculous at the pride fluttering in his chest.

 _Girlfriend_ , he reminded himself. _He has a girlfriend and he loves her enough to buy her flowers at least twice a week. Get a fucking grip, Lightwood._

“Okay then,” Magnus cut through his thoughts. His free hand came down to play with the hem of Alec’s sleeve and Alec let him, fascinated by the myriad of conflicting feelings he could see swift through his brown eyes. “You got your passion for flowers from your father, I got my passion for tattoos from my mother. For a while, it was even my only way to be anywhere near her.”

Alec frowned. “What do you mean?”

“My parents divorced when I was eight,” Magnus said. “It wasn’t an amicable separation, to say the least. My father was violent and abusive, so when my mother finally kicked him out, she never imagined he would get custody of me. She didn’t even think he would fight for me.”

“How could a judge give him custody if he was abusive?” Alec blurted bewildered.

Magnus’ chuckle was mirthless. “My father is rich, powerful and knows all the right people. He hired a top-of-the-rank lawyer, some asshole who made his fortune out of other people’s misery. My mother was completely broke. Tattoos weren’t as trending as they are now and she was struggling to keep the Spiral Labyrinth open. She still put all her savings into that fight, but there was nothing she could do in the end. They made her look like an addict. A danger to me. And she didn’t even get a right to have me on weekends, so I was stuck with Dear Old Dad.”

“Did he -” Alec started, but couldn’t quite find the words, his breath stuck in his throat.

“Oh, yeah,” Magnus said with a bitter smile. “I’ve got a few scars of my own, my darling. That’s when I met Raphael. His mother worked for my father and she brought her oldest son to work once, and he was already a ray of sunshine and I was a depressed nine-year-old, so we hit it off immediately. It was good, though. It saved me.”

Alec’s stomach lurched at the thought of a younger Magnus - Magnus, who was so full of life, who managed to put a smile on everyone’s face with just a grin of his own - shutting himself from the world because of the wrongs of one person.

“I spent most of my time at Raphael’s, with his siblings, always stalling to stay just an hour longer because I knew what was waiting for me at home. It’s Raphael who came to pick me up after school and took me by the arm one day to drag me all the way from Manhattan to Brooklyn and to my mother’s tattoo parlor.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother cry as much as she did that day,” Magnus muttered with a smile, small but impossibly tender. “Not that I was much better. She was still fighting to get me back, but she was struggling to even eat with the money it was costing her and she was going to lose the parlor, her only source of income, if she kept it up like that. Luke, Clary’s stepfather, is the only reason she didn’t go completely downhill.”

“After that first time, I used to run away whenever I knew I could get away with it and escape to my mother’s shop, watching her tattoo people for hours because it was the only way I could spend time with her. I was fourteen, and I had been stuck with my father for five years, when my mother met Charles.”

“Your stepfather, right?” Alec cut in softly, eyes focused on Magnus, although his were still riveted on his ring-clad fingers playing with the hem of Alec’s sleeve.

He nodded nonetheless. “He’s a great man. Kind, smart, selfless. And he fell in love with my mother as soon as he laid eyes on her, or so he says. I think he just fell in love with how beautiful she is on the outside before he realized she is even more beautiful on the inside.”

 _Must be something in the genes_ , Alec pondered to himself.

“He sounds admirable,” he said instead.

“He is,” Magnus muttered. “He’s also very wealthy. My mother and I… We’re not used to asking for help. We take our fate in our own hands and deal with whatever life throws our way. That’s how she raised me anyway. But when she told Charles the whole story and he offered to get her a good, competent lawyer, she said yes immediately. I was fifteen then. Sixteen when the new trial started and Ragnor, my mother’s lawyer, handed my father his ass. I was old enough then that my word held more importance than it had the first time. And I think the bruises and broken bones spoke for themselves anyway.”

“She won this time around, and I moved back with her on the same day,” Magnus said, and Alec released a relieved sigh, as if there had been any doubt on the outcome. “They got married a year later. She didn’t want to get married if I couldn’t be at the wedding.”

There was something to his tone, a hint of nostalgia, and a regretful edge to his gaze that forced Alec to ask, “How did it go?” Magnus lifted an eyebrow in inquiry. “After you were back,” Alec clarified. “You had been apart from your mother for what? eight years? You had been stuck with an abusive father all this time, I can’t imagine you went back to normal in two days.”

Magnus’ lips tipping up at the corner, but his eyes were still sorrowful. “I didn’t,” he muttered. “I met a girl and I fell in love because I was desperate for it, for someone to show me the affection I had been lacking of for years but the one I got from my mother wasn’t enough, and Charles still felt like a stranger to me. Like you said, I was used to abusive behavior. It had become a norm to me. So I didn’t realize it when history repeated itself with Camille.”

“Of course, my mother tried to warn me but after years of being constantly manipulated by my father, I just took it as an attempt to control me the way he had. I didn’t realize at the time that the only manipulation was on Camille’s side.” He let out a small laugh. “Mom is still mad at me for bringing her to the wedding, but she made sure she wasn’t on too many pictures.”

Alec laughed with him, and somehow it was enough to ease the heaviness of the moment.

“It took me a while and a literal slap to the face to realize Camille was just as evil and abusive as my father had been before her,” Magnus continued. “I got the mandala when I was still with Camille. My mom tattooed me. Camille disapproved, of course, because she wanted me to get something that symbolized our _love_.”

Alec winced. “Please tell me you didn’t.”

“I didn’t,” Magnus said bemusedly. “Thanks to Raphael, who managed to convince me I should honor my oldest friend rather than my girlfriend. He mostly got the matching tattoo with me to prevent me from doing something really stupid.”

“True friendship,” Alec commented with a smile.

Magnus hummed in approval. “So I got the compass next,” he said. “I got the cherry blossom one when I broke up with Camille. Abuse had only been vocal with her, until that one time she slapped me and I left her for good. She just made me feel like I was a worthless piece of shit and that I needed her in my life if I wanted to have any worth at all. She made me lose sight of the important things in my life. Love, friendship, passion. The tattoo serves as a reminder that no matter what I am facing, I must keep eye on the beauty in my life.”

“I got the Invictus one at the same time,” he added, and his voice barely emerged above the sound of the river crashing against the shore. “I wasted too many years letting toxic people control my life for me,” he said in lieu of an explanation. He paused, inhaling deeply, and Alec’s eyes went down to the lines on Magnus’ forearm, and the words held a whole new meaning. “Not anymore.”

“Not anymore,” Alec echoed softly, and the words found a tether in his mind, settling there to stay.

.

Magnus texted Alec the next day with a first draft of his drawing.

 _Shit. That looks so fucking good,_ was the only reply he got, and it came in the late afternoon, while he was slouched on the couch at his mother’s place, his sketchbook on his knees, working on enhancing every single detail.

It never seemed good enough, though. He knew there was something missing, but he couldn’t quite figure out what exactly, so he moved on to another drawing before he ended up tearing off his own hair.

 _Do you have any other request apart from the tree?_ he texted back. _I don’t want to get ahead of myself and do something you’re not comfortable with._

 _I’ll tell you if you do_ , Alec wrote. _But I’m sure I won’t have to. I trust you._

“You’re grinning like an idiot. I don’t like it.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, looking up from his phone to send a glare at Raphael. “I’m not.”

“You are,” Charles chimed in from the kitchen counter where he was peeling potatoes under his wife’s scrutiny. “Who’s the lucky one?”

“No one,” Magnus grumbled.

“Please,” his mother scoffed disbelievingly. “I know you. This is your ‘falling in love’ stupid grin.”

“Maybe I just saw a funny meme on Twitter,” he protested.

“I’m gonna tell Alec you called him that,” Raphael said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“How do you know it’s Alec?” Magnus asked, voice hitching up in affront.

“I didn’t,” Raphael replied with a wiggle of his eyebrows. “But now I do.”

Magnus huffed in annoyance.

“Alec, the florist guy?” Charles inquired, because his family was definitely set on pestering him.

Raphael hummed in confirmation and Magnus grinned back at him toothily, showing him his middle finger.

“Oh, baby, you have to let us meet him!” Barbara blurted happily. “I’m so glad you’re dating again!”

“We’re not dating!” Magnus snapped, more harshly than he had intended to. “We’re friends. I’m working on a tattoo for him. That’s it.”

Only silence welcomed his outburst and Magnus frowned, gazing up from his sketchbook to glance at his family and best friend. They were looking back at him with a combination of bewilderment and empathy and he cursed inwardly, chewing on his bottom lip and ducking his head again.

“Shit,” Raphael breathed out after a while. “You really like him.”

“And you’re scared,” Barbara finished for him, abandoning her cooking to walk to the couch and sit next to Magnus.

“I’m not scared,” he grumbled, but the lie was as obvious in his voice as it was in his trembling hands.

Barbara scoffed fondly and wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her other hand grabbing one of Magnus’ for comfort.

“It’s okay, Magnus,” she murmured, carding soothing fingers in his hair. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“No, it’s not,” he choked out, clenching his teeth. “It shouldn’t be that way. Alec is…”

Every word seemed far too dull to really describe him, so he shut his mouth, his hand twirling in a flourish instead.

“Not Asmodeus,” Barbara finished for him, still gently stroking his hair, and Magnus squeezed her hand hard at the mention of his father. “And not Camille either.”

“You don’t even know him,” he mumbled. “How would you know?”

Barbara smiled softly, jerking her chin towards Raphael. “He knows him and he likes him. We all know Raphael doesn’t like anyone, so that’s enough for me.”

Magnus snorted, shaking his head fondly, and shifted to snuggle against his mother, resting his head on her shoulder.

“Not everyone is out there to hurt you, pumpkin,” she muttered, pressing a soft kiss on the top of his head. “And you have so much love to give. Don’t let the people who hurt you win by refusing to open your heart again. You deserve to be happy.”

Magnus hummed, relaxing in his mother’s familiar embrace.

“I do.”

“Sometimes, you just need to find the good person to help you chase your demons away,” she said.

Magnus scoffed. “Are you sharing a disgustingly sappy look with Charles right now? Because I’ll be offended if you do.”

Barbara laughed. “Oh, shut up and just ask your florist out so you can actually have an excuse to go to his shop all the time. I’m starting to have way too many flowers in here.”

“No offense, but your apartment is starting to look like a nightmare from Alice in Wonderland,” Raphael said, deadpan. “Mind you, Magnus does look like the Mad Hatter.”

“Screw you, Tweedledee.”

“Not interested,” Raphael retorted with a smirk. “Screw Alec in Wonderland instead.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, cursing under his breath, and his mother and Charles laughed at his expense, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way.

.

Magnus worked on the tattoo for two weeks, between customers, in the comfort of his apartment in the evenings, on his trips to the shop in the mornings when he took the subway instead of his bike, as the summer heat slowly faded away to be replaced by the windy but pleasant freshness of September.

With it came Alec’s birthday, and Magnus’ final draft.

He eyed the paperwork Alec handed back to him without really paying attention to it, glancing back up at him.

“Are you sure you want to do it in one sitting?”

Alec smiled a crooked, taunting smile. “Are you?”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s gonna lie down for four to five hours while I stab your flesh for money,” Magnus retorted. “It’s gonna be painful.”

“Magnus,” Alec called out softly, and Magnus’ heart leaped in his chest. “I can take it.”

“Oh, I’m sure you can,” Magnus replied suggestively, and the allusion wasn’t lost to Alec if his blushing cheeks were anything to go by. “Okay. Shirt off. Oh, how I’ve dreamed of saying that,” he said with a dreamy sigh, fluttering his lashes in staged emotion.

Magnus chuckled at Alec’s dramatic eyeroll, and went to grab the transfer paper on his desk. “Lie down, darling.”

Alec shrugged his sweater and t-shirt off and obliged, settling on the table. His breath hitched in his throat as he did and Magnus swirled around immediately, brow furrowed in concern at Alec’s paling features.

“You okay?” he asked at once.

“Yeah,” Alec murmured with a quick nod, swallowing hard. “It’s just… It’s very much like lying in an hospital bed. Bad memories.”

Magnus walked back to the table, resting a comforting hand on Alec’s shoulder. “We can do it sitting down but it’ll be less comfortable for you,” he told him softly.

“And for you,” Alec said. “You’re going to kill your back bending down all along.”

Magnus shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

“No,” Alec said, shaking his head. “I’m okay. I can handle it.”

Magnus didn’t reply immediately, taking a few seconds to study Alec’s features and make sure he meant the words. When he saw no trace of his usual stubborn selflessness, he nodded.

“Did you eat enough?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Magnus!” Alec exclaimed, but he was laughing. “I’m fine. Just get on with it.”

Magnus pouted, pressing the transfer paper to Alec’s skin without further ado, smoothing it with his palms before taking it off.

“Okay,” he said, sliding a pair of black latex gloves on. “I’ll start at your hip and go up from there to your armpit and shoulder. Then I’ll fill it in and work on the shadows.”

Alec let out a shaky breath, anxiety suddenly written all over his face and Magnus couldn’t resist the urge to reach out to push a loose strand of hair off of his forehead and run his fingers in his hair, just once. Alec blinked up at him, clearly dazed by the tenderness of Magnus’ gesture - he was surprised himself - but didn’t try to push him away.

“Deep breaths,” he murmured. “It’s going to be alright. It’s only a small prick. I would gladly introduce you to a more pleasurable prick but I’m about to make you bleed so it’s probably not the best time.”

Alec snorted, the tip of his ears coloring in a lovely shade of red. “You think?” he retorted, deadpan, but he was smiling.

The soft sound of the music from his laptop echoing in his back, Magnus took his seat next to the table, sharing a glance with Alec, whose right arm was tucked under his head to give Magnus the room he needed.

“Ready?”

Alec nodded.

“If you need anything, you just ask and we take a break, okay?”

He nodded again, and Magnus mimicked him, before bending over his skin and switching the tattoo gun on.

.

The first hour passed in a blur. Alec had been bracing himself for agonizing pain, but it wasn’t more painful than the scratches he had earned when he was younger and had tried to stroke their family cat, Church. Church was a judgmental, arrogant cat, he told Magnus, who made sure to distract him with small talk all along. He had always liked Max and only Max, and had been impossibly hostile to anyone else, including Alec.

He kept fond memories of his mother applying antibiotic ointment to his cuts every time he was stubborn enough to try again, and again, and again.

In exchange, Magnus told him more about Chairman Meow, who was apparently quite arrogant and condescending himself, but only because “he likes to choose his acquaintances”, or so Magnus told him, adding with a smile that he was sure his cat would like Alec.

When they weren’t talking, Magnus hummed to the music under his breath, his eyes never leaving Alec’s skin or the tip of his tattoo gun, and Alec let his eyes drift to the numerous drawings and pictures on the wall, not bothering to hide the awe in his gaze now that Magnus couldn’t see it.

He was acutely aware of Magnus’ warm presence beside him, his breath soothing the burn of the prick on his skin, his gentle touch wiping off the blood and excedent of ink every now and then.

The second hour was harder, the pain getting sharper and sharper with every passing minute, but it only served as a reminder to another type of pain he was trying to bury under the ink, and it was far more bearable.

Simon came by halfway through the third hour, offering pastries from Wanda’s bakery to the both of them and they took the opportunity to have a break, but Alec pointedly refused to look in the mirror and see the progress of Magnus’ work on his ribs. He distracted himself by focusing on Magnus and Simon’s amiable banter while forcing the pastry down his throat and past the nauseous sensation caused by the blood loss.

Simon was gone after fifteen minutes and Alec lied back down without a word.

“Okay?” Magnus asked quietly.

“Okay,” Alec said simply, running a hand through his tired features.

He fell asleep through the fourth hour, exhaustion enveloping him all at once, unexpectedly.

He was woken up with a start by the sharp noise of latex slapping in the air and had to blink three times before his eyes settled on Magnus, who was facing away from him to throw his gloves in the nearest trashcan.

He felt a bit dizzy, but was only vaguely aware of the pain shooting up his right side, like his body had become numb to it after the repeated assaults.

“Are you done?” he croaked out.

Magnus turned around to face him, and his face softened into a smile that made Alec’s stomach lurch again, although he wasn’t sure the blood loss was to blame this time.

“Yup,” he said, stepping closer. “How are you feeling?”

Alec pushed on his good side to prop himself in a sitting position, grabbing the bottle of water Magnus was handing to him with a grateful smile. “Exhausted,” he muttered, only distantly aware of the words coming out of his mouth. “You?”

Magnus chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, I just got to touch your naked upper body for four hours and a half,” he replied with a teasing wink. “I don’t see how my day could get any better.”

Alec snorted, shaking his head, and finished the water, already feeling more level-headed.

Magnus waited patiently for him to finish and tilted his head to the side. “Ready to see it?” he asked in a low voice, apprehension tainting his beautiful eyes.

Alec nodded and stood to follow Magnus to the mirror on the other side of the room, his heartbeat throbbing all the way from his temples to his fingertips. Magnus motioned for him to stand in front of it, and Alec inhaled deeply before moving forward, Magnus standing behind him, chewing on his bottom lip nervously.

Alec stretched his right arm over his head to see the tattoo, and his breath caught in his throat.

From his hipbone to his armpit, branches spreading to his shoulder and the front of his chest, a beautiful tree was inked in his skin, covering up all the remaining wounds he hadn’t been able to hide with clever lies and buried feelings. It seemed to be moving with the wind, the branches angled slightly to the side, making it seem all the more compelling, and sublime in its devastating simplicity. And there, on the left side, a dreamcatcher was hanging from one of the branching, following the blast of the wind, stunning in its details and even more in its meaning. Magnus hadn’t warned him about the dreamcatcher, but Alec had told him to do as he pleased, having no doubt that it would please him too.

He hadn’t realized how long he had been silent, or that he had been tearing up, until Magnus’ worried voice echoed in his back.

“Oh God,” he breathed out. “You hate it, don’t you? I’m -”

Alec didn’t give him a chance to go on. He spinned around and pulled Magnus in his arms without as much of a warning, burying his face, and his tears, in his neck.

“Thank you,” he managed to choke out.

Magnus wrapped an arm around his good side, fingers trailing on Alec’s naked skin in a soothing manner, holding onto him as he let relief and gratitude pour out of him in waves. He could feel Magnus’ pulse throbbing against his cheek, and used its steady rhythm to tether himself back to a relative serenity, meshing his breathing with Magnus’.

When he drew back, it felt like an eternity later, but Magnus never complained and only let go when Alec did.

“Come on,” he said gently, fingers trailing down Alec’s arm to grab his hand. “Let’s wrap you up.”

He chuckled at Alec’s confused look, and gestured for him to sit back down on the table.

Alec realized that the ‘wrapping up’ part was quite literal when Magnus produced wrapping paper out of a drawer. It only took five minutes and Alec wished it had lasted longer, if only to pull himself back together properly, and not because of Magnus’ breath ghosting over his skin as he worked and sending chills down his spine.

When he was done, Magnus took a step back and grabbed Alec’s t-shirt to hand it back to him with a grin. “All done, darling,” he said. “You’re good on tattoo maintenance?”

Alec nodded. “I do listen to you when you speak,” he retorted with a smirk. “Most of the time.”

Magnus rolled his eyes, stepping closer again to wipe the dampness off Alec’s cheeks.

Alec swallowed hard. “Thank you,” he murmured again, eyes boring straight into the warm brown orbs.

Magnus smiled and went to pull back his hand but Alec’s hand shot up on its own accord before he could, gripping his wrist and tugging lightly to haul him forward. Magnus gasped in surprise, but didn’t try to fight him off.

Alec studied his features silently, the rich brown color of his eyes, contoured by a deep blue eyeshadow to match his shirt. Magnus was beautiful, in that unique way of his that mixed genuine beauty and devilish sensuality, and Alec was painfully aware that he was even more beautiful on the inside, his heart overflowing with a kindness he would have had every right to abandon after all the obstacles that had been thrown his way.

It was without an ounce of surprise, truly, that Alec realized he was falling in love with him, if he hadn’t stumbled over the edge already.

His lips descended on Magnus’ fatally, and Alec was positive his heart stopped beating, only to catch up on his absence as soon as Magnus kissed him back by rummaging in his chest with enough vigor to make his head spin.

Alec’s hand drifted to Magnus’ waist, settling there to pull him closer. Magnus inhaled sharply, and their breathing quickened together as their tongues met.

Kissing Magnus was dangerous, Alec pondered to himself, and he was sure the sole reason for that wasn’t how addictive his lips felt against his own, or how he fit against him like they had been carved out of the same mold.

When they pulled apart to breathe, Magnus pressed a burning kiss to his cheek, his lips wandering lower and Alec tilted his head to the side to give him more room at once, watching with hooded eyes their surroundings, only faintly conscious that it probably wasn’t the best place or time. He couldn’t have cared less.

Until he did.

His gaze fell on Magnus’ deck, finding there the withering remains of the flowers he had given Magnus throughout last couple of weeks, like he had done for the past months, all neatly set in a little vase. Flowers Alec had given him when Magnus had come to his shop to buy flowers for his girlfriend.

Because Magnus had a girlfriend.

He moaned despite himself when Magnus sucked on his neck, before trailing his way back up to his lips, pecking them lightly.

Magnus frowned when Alec didn’t reply to his kiss, frozen in dread. It was like someone had just emptied a bucket of iced water over his head.

“Alexander?” Magnus muttered softly, with a gentleness that ripped his heart in half. “Are you okay?”

Alec swallowed past the lump in his throat.

“I can’t do this,” he blurted. “ _You_ can’t do this.”

Magnus’ eyes flashed with hurt, but it only served to make Alec angrier.

“It’s not right,” he continued.

Magnus opened his mouth and closed it twice before he managed to get some words out. “I-I thought you -”

Alec shook his head firmly, cutting him mid-sentence. “I have to go,” he exclaimed, disentangling his legs from around Magnus’ waist - he didn’t remember putting them there, but then again, he had been utterly lost to Magnus’ whole being the second he had walked into this room - pushing Magnus away gently and launching off the table.

“Thank you again,” he told a stunned Magnus. “You have no idea how much it means to me, and I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have kissed you. It won’t happen again.”

He was gone before Magnus could hold him back, his desperate call reverberating with every step Alec took to get out of the tattoo parlor.

Isabelle, Jace and Max were waiting for him outside with wide grins on their faces and Alec froze, urging himself to ease down his breathing.

“Happy birthday!” they exclaimed in a same voice.

“Show me!” Isabelle demanded at once.

“I-I can’t,” Alec said, and gulped to compose himself. “It’s wrapped up. I’ll show you in a couple of hours.”

Isabelle pouted, clearly disappointed, but it only lasted a few seconds before she perked up again. “It’s okay, Magnus sent me a picture of the drawing before you guys started and I’m sure it looks amazing.”

“Speaking of the devil,” Jace snarled with a smirk, “where’s Magnus? I think we should thank him for making our stubborn big brother finally listen to us.”

“He was tired, he stayed behind to get some rest,” Alec rushed out. “You’ll thank him later.”

Without another word, he walked back to his own shop, heart still pounding painfully in his chest.

.

Magnus felt like every day was a long, agonizing hangover for the following two weeks.

Which was only technically true for five or six of them. Maybe seven.

Ragnor was visiting from England, which meant spending evenings in bar getting trashed while Magnus had to suffer through his friends’ never-ending teasing and terrible fashion tastes.

He tried to text Alec and to call, but every attempt had remained vain until Alec finally replied two days after the session, “ _I’m sorry. I crossed a line. Just give me some time and we can be friends again._ ”

So Magnus left him be, guilt lurching in the stomach at the thought that he had foolishly wasted a valuable friendship because he couldn’t keep his feelings in check.

His mother, perspective as always, was the first one to pick on his degrading mood. She had been peeking over his shoulder as he drew in his sketchbook, slouched in his favorite spot on the couch of her living room, waiting for Charles to finish cooking their bi-weekly dinner, when she spoke, making him startle.

“What’s wrong, pumpkin?” she muttered, low enough so that Magnus was the only one to hear.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he lied immediately, in a distant voice that he didn’t recognize himself.

Barbara scoffed in indignation. “You’re drawing with charcoal,” she pointed out. “You only do that when you’re sad.”

Magnus sighed in defeat, his shoulders slouching. “I’ll be okay, Mom,” he said in a whisper. “I just need some time.”

She frowned, her beautiful features contorting into a grimace of concern, but she simply kissed his forehead, tearing a small smile out of him.

“I love you,” she said.

“I love you too,” Magnus said.

She had been right. He had too much love to give.

.

Alec did the only thing he knew how to do when he was feeling down: he buried himself in his work. It came as a welcomed distraction when Lily - who was much better than he was at finding them regular customers because she had much better people skills than he did - scored them a big contract with a few hotels in the area.

If it made him come to work earlier and get back home later, so be it.

The further away he was from the lately cold and lonely walls of his apartment, the better.

It was a Wednesday and he arrived an hour before their opening hours, immediately starting on the few customers’ orders they had gotten. He made his best not to scratch his right side when an unpleasant itching sensation shot through his ribs.

Magnus had warned him it might happen, that it was the aftermath and logical result of his body healing, but he had never told him how bad it would be.

His heart tightened at the thought of Magnus, and he heaved out. He tried his best not to let his head jerk toward the window every time he heard the sound of a bike driving down the street, but he had learned to recognize the one Magnus’ Ducati Scrambler made in the three months they had known each other, and none of the engine noise that reverberated through the street that morning was the one of Magnus’ bike.

When he went to open the door for customers, he was surprised to find a woman standing behind the door.

She was quite tall, with light bronze skin and piercing almond-shaped brown eyes, her long, dark hair falling in waves over her shoulders and her back. She smiled at him through the window of the door, her lips tugging at one corner, and he was struck with an overwhelming sensation of familiarity that he urgently pushed to the back of his mind.

He was trying to get over Magnus, and clearly doing a poor job at it if he started seeing him in every stranger that came to his shop.

“Good morning,” he said when she walked into the shop, turning his back to her to get back to the counter. “How can I help -” he started, freezing when the unmistakable sound of Magnus’ bike resonated all the way through his ears, “- you?” he finished, blinking out of his daze.

She sent him a smile and walked towards the counter with deliberate steps. She stopped right in front of him and for a while, she didn’t talk. She tilted her head to the side, another familiar gesture that made him curse inwardly, and scrutinized him quietly, her deep, brown eyes drifting on his face like they would on an open book.

Alec gulped, resisting the urge to squirm on his feet. “Ma’am?”

“You are very handsome,” she said, and before he could thank her and politely inform her that he very much liked dicks, and one particular dick, although he hadn’t gone that far yet, she added, “I can see why my son has been buying so many flowers lately.”

Alec frowned, confused, and went with the most eloquent way to reply, which was to arch an eyebrow and squint one eye in puzzlement.

“My son,” she said, in a tone that sounded like it should have been self-explanatory. “He’s been buying me a whole lot of flowers lately and… I mean, they’re very nice. You doing a fantastic job, darling but between you and I, I like flowers but not that much.”

Alec was starting to think he was missing something, something crucial with that, and more importantly, he had a feeling he knew exactly what was going on, and a slow, creeping sensation of dread sent a long shiver down his spine.

“Y-Your son?” he managed to stammer.

“Yeah, Magnus,” she said, and his heart sunk in his chest. “He owns the tattoo parlor next door. Haven’t you met him?”

“Y-Yeah, I have.”

“You’re Alec, right?”

“I am,” he said, feeling utterly articulate. He inhaled deeply, shutting off his inner voice that was yelling at him how much of an idiot he was. “You’re the mystery woman?” he asked when he found his voice. “The one he’s been buying all those flowers for?”

She hummed in confirmation, and it was a beautiful sound, chanting and light.

“Shit,” he breathed out. “Fuck.”

She startled, interrupting her observation of one of the dreamcatchers hanging from the ceiling to look back at him, clearly surprised.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “So, he doesn’t have a girlfriend?”

Realization flashed across her features and her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “Not that I know of, darling. I’m pretty sure he’s a bit hooked on a handsome florist.”

“Shit,” Alec said again, and sent her an apologetic look that she discarded with a flourish of her hand. “Excuse me, Ma’am.” He rushed to the other side of the counter to grab her shoulders. “I gotta go. There’s something I need to do. Could you look after the shop for like ten minutes? My colleague should arrive soon.”

Magnus’ mother smirked at him. “Get out of here before I make you,” she said, and he knew that she would.

He ran out of the shop without further ado, thanking her in an incoherent string of words.

Magnus was right there, leaning against his bike, looking as gorgeous as ever in a beige trench coat and grey ripped jeans. He was chatting with Wanda, and Alec rushed to join them, his heart pounding in his chest.

“It was your mother?” he blurted, loud enough to make them both jump.

Magnus levelled him with a glare. “Have you completely lost your mind?” he growled. “You don’t talk to me for two weeks and then you just yell some bullshit at me out of nowhere?”

He huffed in annoyance and pushed off his bike to leave, but Alec grabbed his arm before he could, gently but firmly.

“Do you have a girlfriend?” he asked, shaking his head.

“What the hell are you doing, Alexander?” Magnus exclaimed, snatching his arm out of his grip. “I got the message loud and clear, you don’t need to be cruel about it.”

“No, no, Magnus,” Alec sighed. “It’s not -”

“Olek,” Wanda called from the side, a soft smile on her lips. “Start over, _skarbie_. You’re not making any sense.”

Alec nodded, taking a deep breath, and set his eyes back on Magnus. He looked angry, his lips firmly pressed together, his teeth clenched.

“All the flowers you’ve been buying,” he muttered. “Did you buy them for your girlfriend?”

“What?” Magnus scoffed, but his eyes widened with realization in a manner that would have been whimsical if Alec hadn’t been feeling like he was going to implode soon. “No, they were for my mother!” he said then, and Alec didn’t even try to hide his relieved sigh. “You thought I had a girlfriend?” he blurted, sounding oddly chastising. “Is that why you ran away?”

“You said they were for a special person!” Alec protested. “You never said it was your mother!”

“Alexander, even if I did have a girlfriend, no one likes flowers that much,” Magnus said, deadpan, arms crossed over his chest.

“I do!” Alec asserted, scowling.

“Oh, just shut up and kiss me, you idiot!”

“Yes!” Wanda exclaimed from the side. “Shut up and kiss him or I’ll do it for you!”

Alec chuckled and rolled his eyes, gripping the lapels of Magnus’ trench coat to haul him against his chest and cover his mouth with his own. Magnus kissed back immediately, his hands jolting up to cup Alec’s cheek with one hand, trailing over his scruff, and the second one slipping in his hair to pull him closer.

Alec was vaguely aware of pushing Magnus against the bike at some point and Jace’s voice yelling “get it, bro” somewhere in the back, but all he could truly pay attention to were Magnus’ lips moving against his own, Magnus’ fingers mapping a path from his cheek to the bridge of his ear, impossibly tender, Magnus’ body flushed against him, and his own heart, hollering at him with deafening heartbeats “this is it, this one it is, this one fits perfectly”.

Alec held him tighter, listening to both their hearts pulsing in unison, and swearing to himself he would never let him go. Not for as long as Magnus would want him.

When they pulled back, panting against each other’s lips, Alec cupped Magnus’ face between his hands and smiled. Easily. Effortlessly.

“So, do you want to maybe go out for a drink sometime?” he asked breathily, his grin broadening at the sight of Magnus’ own toothy smile.

“Depends,” Magnus muttered, a mischievous spark dancing in his eyes. “Can I bring my girlfriend along?”

Alec sighed, resting his forehead against Magnus. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

Magnus chuckled, pecking his lips. “You’re forgiven. I’d get you some daffodils for forgiveness but my florist has been ignoring me for two weeks because he thought I had a girlfriend.”

“You’re never going to let me forget it, are you?” Alec muttered.

“Nope,” Magnus said, his eyes shining with that devilish spark that had drawn Alec to him in the first place.

Alec rolled his eyes and pulled him for another kiss.

.

.

“What do you think about couple tattoos?”

“I’m not having your name tattooed on my ass,” Alec growled, but he was smiling.

That had certainly much to do with his recent orgasm, he pondered to himself.

Magnus chuckled, poking his ribs gently. “Don’t need to, I already know that ass belongs to me,” he replied tauntingly.

Alec snorted, but didn’t deny it, his fingers trailing from Magnus’ shoulders to his hips and all the way down to squeeze his naked ass in retaliation. “What did you have in mind?”

Magnus smiled at him and his eyes glimmered with excitement. It was a look on him that never failed to make Alec smile back, even after two years together.

Magnus dropped a kiss on his chest and shuffled to get out of bed, his glorious nudity exposed for Alec’s pleasure as he walked to the desk to pick up a felt-pen. He climbed back into bed and over Alec, straddling his hips with a smirk as he let his eyes rake over his naked chest.

Alec threw him a dubious look. “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to find the best spot,” Magnus said pensively.

“You already have,” Alec replied with a smirk of his own. “Ten minutes ago, when you were fucking me. Did you forget already?”

Magnus bended down to press a lingering kiss to his lips. “Look at you making innuendos,” he muttered against his mouth. “I love you so much.”

“Only because you perverted me to fit your standards,” Alec retorted, reaching up for more. “I love you too.”

“Oh! I know!” Magnus exclaimed, drawing back abruptly, leaving Alec with an open mouth and blinking in surprise.

Magnus grabbed his left arm without another word, pressing the felt-pen to his wrist.

For a while, he was silent, his movements confident and focused as he drew lines and curves over Alec’s wrist. Alec watched him do quietly, the way Magnus pushed out of his mouth just a hint, his brow furrowed in concentration, his nose scrunching up adorably.

He wanted nothing more than to sit up to kiss his boyfriend, but he stayed put. Or as much as he could.

“Stop wiggling,” Magnus chastised him, slapping his thigh lightly in reprimand.

“But it tickles,” Alec protested, but Magnus ignored him, going back to drawing.

Eventually, he pulled the pen away and admired his handiwork before turning to Alec with a grin. “There.”

Alec immediately brought his wrist up to his eyes, studying Magnus’ drawing, a smile slowly growing on his lips. Magnus settled back on his chest, fingers trailing along the tattoo on his ribs absently.

“An amaryllis?” Alec asked softly, sliding his fingers in Magnus’ hair.

“It’s the first flower you ever gave me,” Magnus said in a low voice. “It was your dorky way of flirting with me. Giving me a flower that means ‘splendid beauty’ without ever telling me what it stood for.”

Alec blushed, which was ridiculous in itself, considering the position they were in and how long they had been together. “Shut up.”

Magnus chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Alec’s breath caught in his throat. “It was sweet,” he said, leaning in Alec’s touch in his hair.

“So, you’re an amaryllis,” Alec said in a poorly concealed attempt at changing the subject. Magnus smiled, clearly seeing right through it, but leaned up to press a kiss to his lips. “What am I, then?” Alec asked. “If we’re getting matching tattoos, I’m getting you and you’re getting me, right?”

“You’re good luck and lasting happiness,” Magnus said with a gentle smile. “You’re positivity and strength and everything good in this world.”

Alec bit his bottom lip but it didn’t manage to tame his crooked grin. He grabbed Magnus’ waist, turning him around in his arms to press him against the mattress and hover above him.

“So I’m a sunflower?” he asked, planting a kiss on Magnus’ jaw line before drifting lower.

Magnus hummed in both content and approval.

“Do you think Barbara would tattoo us?” Alec asked against his neck, and hissed in muffled pain when Magnus tugged at his hair, far more harshly than strictly necessary.

“Don’t talk about my mother when we’re in bed,” he growled.

“Sorry,” Alec snickered against his collarbone.

“But yes, she would,” Magnus murmured. “I already asked her.”

Alec froze halfway to Magnus’ nipple and jerked his head up to look at him, lifting an eyebrow.

“You did?”

Magnus threw him a conceited glance through half-closed eyes. “I knew you’d say yes,” he muttered. “I know you know just as well as I do that we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“Maybe you should marry me then,” Alec murmured, kissing his way back up to Magnus’ mouth.

“I would if I could,” Magnus muttered, and Alec’s stomach dropped. He blinked, resting his hands on both sides of Magnus’ head to look at him, gulping. “But what is my girlfriend going to think?”

Alec groaned, letting himself collapse against Magnus with a huff. “Two years, babe. Two fucking years. Let that joke die.”

“Never,” Magnus giggled against his ear, before tugging the lobe between his teeth teasingly.

“Nevermind,” Alec said, pushing off Magnus to fall on his back next to him. “I don’t want to marry you. I’ll just find myself a new boyfriend. Like the teacher from those salsa classes you dragged me to.”

Magnus frowned, angling his head on the pillow to glance at Alec, but he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “I know you better than that, Alexander Gideon Lightwood. I’m not a fool. You’re just saying that so I don’t make you go again.”

“You’re an ass,” Alec said.

“You love me,” Magnus retorted, rolling to plaster himself to Alec’s side, tracing the lines of the dreamcatcher of his tattoo with his fingers.

“I really, really do,” Alec muttered, pressing a kiss against his temple.

“I love you, too.”

Alec smiled, somehow at peace, and let his fingers trail on the smooth, dark lines inked in Magnus’ right forearm.

_It matters not how strait the gate,_

_How charged with punishments the scroll,_

_I am the master of my fate,_

_I am the captain of my soul._

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to read the full poem, click [here](https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems-and-poets/poems/detail/51642/).
> 
> And if you want to talk to me, I'm on tumblr [@lecrit](http://lecrit.tumblr.com/) and on twitter [@_L_ecrit](https://twitter.com/_L_ecrit) ❤
> 
>  
> 
> All the love,  
> Lu.
> 
> Ps: Also, CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW GOOD EPISODE TWO WAS? I AM NOT OKAY.


End file.
